


Acceptance

by Neverending_Rainbow



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Afterlife, Child Loss, F/M, Gen, Minor Swearing, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverending_Rainbow/pseuds/Neverending_Rainbow
Summary: Sunrise comes…and Miguel misses it by mere seconds.With Hector in a deep coma, all but forgotten and on the verge of final death, Coco’s fragmenting memories of him barely keeping him together, everything seems lost and bleak.But although Miguel cannot go home, he may still be able to save his Papa Héctor…And accept his new existence.================================Yet another "Miguel dies/doesn't make it home" au. But I hope I can do it justice.Rated T for minor swears and some discussion of child loss/death.





	1. Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Right. New fic. 
> 
> I just saw this movie a few weeks ago, and my first thought was "what happened if Miguel was left behind in the Land of the Dead?" I know, I am a cynical person. But I am curious- and I want to see this idea come to life, of a parent/child relationship between Miguel, and Hector and Imelda. 
> 
> WIth some world building/an actual plot...
> 
> Nothing in this fic is really graphic. There is some discussion of child loss/similar themes. But that's it. And some minor swears.
> 
> Welp! Here it is! I'm only going to continue this if I get enough followers/attention. 
> 
> And another thing, I don't speak Spanish at all, but I hope I have done my best to be respectful to the language and use correct grammar and phrases. I tried to emulate the movie as much as I could.

"You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time --back home to the escapes of Time and Memory."

 

-Thomas Wolfe

* * *

The sun rose steadily, gradually illuminating the top of the stone tower with gentle, pale rays.

It was first few moments of the day after Dios Los Muertos. The dead could no longer cross the Marigold bridge to see their families, it was fading away with the light.

The offices managing the edge of the bridge had just closed, as most border staff had either gone home to get some shut-eye due to staying up all night, or had headed to the Sunrise Spectacular to catch Ernesto De La Cruz’s concert celebrating the end of the holiday.

But the deceased members of the Rivera family weren’t aware of this.

That it was already too late to prevent tragedy.

* * *

Miguel shook Héctor again, trying desperately to get him to wake up.

His Great-Great-Grandpapa had fallen deathly silent after spasming with a golden glow a few moments before, and he couldn’t tell if he was still with them, or about to fade away and depart to the next world.

It reminded him of Chicharrón’s passing. The old skeleton had looked so peaceful and silent when he had started fading away- but with Héctor it was all wrong.

He looked like he was in pain. His eyes were shut and his mouth was in a grimace. But other than that, he couldn’t discern anything from his skeletal face.

So, engrossed he was with worrying and pleading for his Papa Héctor to stay with him, that he did not immediately notice the brush of soft petals on his chest, or that the world suddenly became much much _colder._ Or at least, that’s how his now numb senses processed the odd feeling.

Miguel shivered, and realised with a jolt what had just happened to him.

He’d missed the deadline.

He was stuck in the land of the dead. Forever.

He’d never see his family again- Mama Coco, Mama Imelda- or his parents, or his cousins, or anyone.

He’d never know his little sister. She would grow up without him, never knowing him either.

Looking down numbly, his eyes met now skeletal fingers gripping Héctor’s body.

Unlike before, when it’d been a fuzzy sensation as he’d had his skin, he could now _feel_ the open air on his bones.

Miguel swallowed and looked at Héctor again, latching on to the feeble hope that he would somehow wake up, only to start shaking when he didn’t. He instead remained silent and deathly still.

He’d failed him too.

He’d wanted- _needed_ to go back and get Mama Coco to remember him. Now he couldn’t.

Soon Héctor would experience his final death and fade away- and it was all his fault.

In fact, all of it was his fault. All this tragedy. And death. And horror.

Because he’d been a stupid, rash, little boy.

And with that realisation, his whole world collapsed.

* * *

Imelda frantically pressed the fading marigold petal against Miguel’s chest again.

It was turning to bone in front of her, becoming a proper ribcage.

 _“No. No.”_ She whispered under her breath, and pressed the petal more deeply into his shirt.

This couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t have failed. Her great, great, Grandson couldn’t have died.

She looked down, not wanting to face the cruelness of reality just yet, only to come to face to face with another sorrow.

Héctor…he was sleeping, and he looked like he was having a nightmare.

He’d never…not when they’d been together- when they’d been alive, had a troubled night.

Had he- was this his existence in the land of the dead? Was every night filled with such horrors? Being alone and dreaming of his family- of her and their coco, never seeing them again and being separated forever?

It’d taken almost a century for them to reconnect, and they’d only done it at all due to a tragic fluke.

Miguel getting stuck in the land of the dead had brought the truth of Hector’s death to light, reuniting them and reinvigorating their shared passion for music.

Before she had always turned him away, out of a mistaken belief that he had abandoned her and Coco in life.

Imelda shook her head and took a deep breath, pulling herself together. She couldn’t dwell on her regrets and mistakes now. She was a matriarch of the Rivera family and had to look after all her deceased relatives.

Especially the new ones.

Because Miguel suddenly doubled over her husband’s body and started bawling, clinging to it and burying his face in Hector’s shirt as if his very life depended on it.

“Shhh. Shhh. Mijo…shhh.” She soothed and hurriedly hugged him, patting his hair gently with one hand while squeezing him tightly with the other.

“Mama Imelda, I’m- I can’t- I should’ve listened.” Miguel sobbed and hiccupped.

“Shh. It’s not your fault. Not at all. You did nothing wrong Miguelito.” She said softly.

“But Papa Héctor…I need to remind Mama Coco about him. I can’t have failed. And my family- my living family, I’ll never see them again.” He said slowly.

“Your family is with you Miguel. We’re all right here. We won’t abandon you. Ever.” She promised steadily, tearing up herself. She’d never leave her grandson alone.

And he was wrong about his worries. He would see his living family again. Eventually, after they died themselves...and that would be many years.

She hugged him tighter, just as he started crying harder.

For a few moments she cuddled him fiercely, gently rocking him back and forth, glad that the rest of their familia was giving them space. The shock was still too new. Miguel needed it.

But she slowly became aware of something…a presence that she thought would’ve been gone by now.

Héctor was still there. With them. He hadn’t faded away yet.

 _That’s odd._ She thought numbly, until her mind finally caught up to the present.

_Dios mio! Is he…? Could he come back?_

“Miguel, Héctor is still here.” She whispered to Miguel gently, nuzzling his head with her chin. “We…we need to get him to the department of the dead. They might be able to do something Mijo.”

She was trying to break it to him gently, but to her surprise, Miguel reacted by recoiling slightly and then forcing himself up to stare at Héctor with teary eyes. Like he needed to verify it for himself.

There was dim hope in his sunken gaze. It astounded her, that her Grandson could muster such strength in such short order. He really was a strong boy.

The action also let her see his skeletal face for the first time, and it broke her heart.

He was just so young. Only twelve. He looked so innocent.

Although there was something wrong. She couldn’t quite place it, being so distracted with everything else…

“Papa Héctor!” Miguel said desperately, calling out to the sleeping skeleton again.

But Héctor didn’t wake. In fact, he didn’t even register his voice or their presence. He seemed stuck in a perpetual nightmare; frowning and eyes solidly screwed shut.

It pained her to see him in such a condition, but she had to be strong for her family.

“Come on Miguel. It’s okay. Family relations will take a look at him. We need to get going. You need to get some rest.” Imelda said and squeezed him again.

Miguel continued looking at Héctor for a few more moments, expression drooping as more tears spilled, before he nodded gently.

“All right?” Imelda asked.

“Y-yeah.” Miguel said. He sounded broken.

Together they rose up, still holding onto one another and turned to face the rest of their family.

Dante ran up to them almost immediately. He rubbed his face against Miguel’s legs, whining delicately with his tongue drooping out mournfully.

Miguel sniffed and lowered a hand to pat his alebrije’s prone head, trying to take comfort in his presence.

The others advanced more slowly. Sadness and sympathy playing equally on their features.

They were all crying. Even Victoria, who was even more reserved than her sometimes.

Rosita shook her head and gathered speed, throwing her arms around them both desperately. Her usual vibrancy was all gone.

Julio came next, going to Miguel so he could hug him solidly and rub circles into his back.

Then her brothers, Felipe and Oscar. The former went behind her while the latter went behind Miguel, embracing them and linking their hands over their shoulders, as if wanting to protect them from the world.

Victoria came last and joined her father. She’d removed her glasses and was now crying steadily.

Together, they surrounded Miguel and simply held him, trying to telegraph to him that he was well-loved and that they didn’t blame him for anything that had happened that night.

He was family, and they would always love him.

Miguel almost collapsed again, but managed to keep standing, overwhelmed by their gesture.

They stayed that way for a while, simply being together and comforting one another.

A loud, rather familiar roar, disturbed their serenity and made Imelda raise her head to the brightening sky to try to spot her.

Sure enough, Pepita landed with a small growl and stared at them with sad eyes.

A moment later, there was an even louder, sharper roar, startling the family and making them break apart ever so slightly.

A large dragon Alebrije landed next to Pepita and four officers and a clerk got off. Imelda recognised him as the one that had served them earlier.

They all did a seemingly synchronised double take when they saw them, reeling back from Miguel’s presence, and Héctor’s still form. The clerk almost tripped over himself, then coughed and slowly approached them.

Behind him, the officers had expressions of numb shock.

“Riveras…I’m so sorry for your loss. I came because I’m managing Miguel’s case- considering I submitted the original report into his arrival, and…well, we need to look at him- and Senor Héctor too, if possible.” He said.

Very reluctantly, everyone, bar Imelda, got up and stepped back from Miguel. Although they stayed right behind him, and Rosita put a reassuring hand on his shoulder while Dante refused to leave his side.

“Do you have to see Miguel now? He needs some sleep…and time to adjust with his family. He’s been through so much- too much. Too much tragedy and heartache for a Niño. He needs time.” Imelda said sternly, making sure her voice was strong.

“Si-Si. T-that’s perfectly understandable. But we- The Chief Physician wants to see Héctor _now._ It’s tough to explain- he specifically made time in his schedule for him. I don’t know why, but- Senora Rivera, you know how busy he usually is. He rarely has time to take individual cases. _Please_ , can you at least bring Héctor, while Miguel has a rest?” The clerk pleaded.

“The chief physician?” Miguel said curiously.

Imelda blinked and then sighed, resisting the urge to pinch her brow. She was very stressed and the sudden request irked her to no end. She wanted to refuse, take both Héctor and Miguel home, and just be her familia.

But she couldn’t. Because it was **the** Chief Physician _._

The clerk was right. The physician rarely had time for anyone, and it was even rarer for him to request a specific patient.

His job was to look into the conditions of the dead and treat skeletons- depending on their age, remembrance factor, and a lot of other things that made no sense to her.

She’d only ever seen him _once._ When she’d first arrived in the land of the dead, and that had only been for a few minutes. If even that.

She’d been, apparently lucky enough, to get him as her doctor, rather than one of the other physicians.

He’d greeted her and checked her bones over before abruptly leaving. Quick and short. In and out.

And somehow, he’d known about Héctor, before they’d had a chance to tell anyone.

Shaking her head again, she cleared her throat and glared at the clerk lightly.

“Very well. But give me a minute to speak to my grandson. He’s…new, and I need to explain everything to him.” She said.

The clerk nodded, rubbing his hands together with meek nervousness.

Imelda turned to Miguel, wanting to reassure him, but her eyes instead fell on Héctor lying on the ground behind him.

Cursing under her breath, as she’d unintentionally left him on the dirty ground, she whipped back to the clerk, who cowered at her sudden movement, hiding in his ribcage as Julio frequently did when he was frightened, and gave him permission to let the officers pick up Héctor and get him settled on the dragon Alebrije.

She then told her family to wait while she spoke to Miguel.

Then she took Miguel aside, far away from everyone, only letting Dante follow them, and went down to her knees so she was on his level.

Gripping his shoulders gently, she looked into his bewildered brown eyes and did her best to give him a reassuring look.

“Miguel, I’m sorry that I have to leave you, but I need to go with the clerk and officers _now._ And I’m taking Héctor with me. I’m afraid that you can’t come with us. You need some sleep and time to get settled in. I’ll get Rosita and Victoria to take you home on Pepita, okay?” She said.

Miguel reacted just as she’d expected him to; he started trembling and fell forward, clinging on to her as he’d clung onto Héctor earlier. She hurriedly returned the embrace and held him close, whispering sweet assurances to him.

“You said- I can’t-I need you. Please stay with me! Or at least let me go with you.” Miguel whispered between tears.

“I wish I could Mijo. But- let me explain. The Chief Physician, he looks after- well, _bones._ Our bones. Everyone in the land of the dead. I’ve only ever seen him once, when I first arrived here…and others never see him at all. He’s a notoriously busy man. He must want to look at Héctor so he can try to help him. And I’ll need to be there so I can give him details about his condition.” She explained.

“O-okay. So…he’ll need to see me as well? He- the clerk said so. But Papa Héctor…he’ll look after him?” Miguel said, drawing his head back slightly to give her a pleading look.

“Yes, he will need to see you. But don’t worry, I’ll help you. And with Héctor- he’ll do a good job. In fact, I’ll make _sure_ he does. I won’t leave him alone with Héctor Mijo. And I’ll be home as soon as I can, and I’ll bring him back with me. I promise.” She said.

“But why can’t I come now? I’m not that tired- I can deal with it. I want to help Papa Héctor.” Miguel begged.

“Mijo, you can help by going home and getting some sleep- you’ve been up far too much. All night. You need to regain your strength and considering what happened- the emotional ordeal you went through, some time to just rest and come to terms with being here.” She said.

Miguel nodded solemnly, drying his eyes with his shirt and doing his best to stop crying.

“I understand Mama Imelda. I’ll go with Tia Rosita and Tia Victoria…if it helps. I also need to rest so I can be strong for Papa Héctor as well.” He said.

“Eres un buen niño.” She said and squeezed him again.

They hugged for one more moment, and then they slowly separated. Miguel seemed reluctant to let go, and he gave her a sad look as they stepped apart.

Imelda smiled at him and held out her hand, beckoning him to take it.

Miguel perked up slightly and took it. Then, together, they walked back to the others.

The officers had gotten Héctor loaded on to the dragon Alebrije, and there seemed have been no change in his condition. The clerk gave her an understanding nod as she and Miguel approached them.

Imelda felt her heart seize. She hated it. Seeing someone she loved, and someone who had suffered so much already, have to go through even more hardship.

But that was just how life worked out; it was unfair and cruel, and any happiness had to be worked hard for and held onto tightly. Like family.

Further on, her familia was by Pepita. Dante ran ahead and sat down next to her.

“Rosita, Victoria, please take Miguel home on Pepita. Julio, and my Hermanos, get the first trolley back. They should be running by now.. I’m going to go with Héctor and see the Chief Physician.” She explained.

Everyone voiced their agreement to her plans and she turned to Miguel one last time.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see you soon Mijo.” She said, and squeezed his hand before letting go.

“Mama Imelda…I love you.” Miguel said suddenly, looking down at the ground to hide his face.

“I love you too. Now, go with Rosita and Victoria.” She said and pushed him gently in their direction.

Miguel looked back at her, fresh tears brimming in his eyes, before he nodded and hurried to Pepita.

Imelda’s heart clenched again, but she steeled herself and went to the Dragon Alebrije.

The clerk got on first with one of the officers, and motioned her to sit behind Héctor so she could steady him as they flew.

Imelda quickly mounted the beast and cradled her husband’s head in her lap, smoothing his hair back and doing her best to comfort him. Just as she had done for Miguel.

The dragon grunted, and then started flapping its wings.

It raised itself steadily in the hair.

All too quickly, it took off with a low roar and sped away from the roof.

Imelda managed to look back, and caught Miguel staring at her with distant eyes from the edge.

She swallowed and tore her eyes away, before her heart broke.


	2. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to get this out yesterday, but my damn internet went down. Anyway, it’s hot as hell where I am! So I’m just hunkering down and writing all day, with a cold glass of lemonade and some cake! Yum!

Miguel watched as the dragon took off, taking Mama Imelda and Papa Héctor with it.

He felt someone lick his left hand and looked down.

Dante stared up at him with soulful eyes, nosing him with his bright green nose.

Miguel sighed and patted his head, then deftly scratched him behind the ears.

More than anything, he wanted to go home. But he couldn’t. Because of his own stupidity.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, willing himself to not cry.

The only thing that was keeping him together was the slim hope that Papa Héctor might still be saved. Either by family relations, or this “Chief Surgeon”.

If Mama Imelda had faith in him, then he might be able to perform a miracle and save his Grandpapa.

The rest of his familia were having a quick talk; discussing in hushed tones what they were going to do for the rest of the evening, and how to prepare the house for Mama Imelda’s return. The officers that had accompanied the clerk were on the side, waiting for them to finish.

Pepita was watching him with sad eyes, and he turned away to avoid her gaze. He didn’t want to cry again.

He tuned them all out after a few moments, focusing on patting Dante to keep his mind from despairing further.

Suddenly, a gust of cold air blew across the roof. It hit him starkly and he shivered keenly, feeling it blow through him.

His ribcage rattled and he jumped, releasing Dante.

He’d forgotten-

“You okay, Mijo?” A voice asked.

He looked up and blinked.

It was Tia Victoria. She had a worried smile and her light brown eyes were full of pity for him.

Miguel shook his head and resumed patting Dante, looking away from her.

“Don’t worry. Papa Héctor will be all right. He’s a strong man- he _is_ a Rivera. Whatever it takes, the Chief Surgeon will look after him.” She said and joined him.

Miguel just nodded. He didn’t know what to say- or rather, he didn’t _want_ to say anything. He wanted to stay quiet, unmoving, for as long as possible. It was the closest thing to being at peace.

“Now, we’re going to head off in just a moment. Julio is just figuring out details with the officers- they want to give him something, or show him something. I don’t know...now, our house isn’t too far. It’s just beyond the inner city. Imelda wanted a quiet spot without being too far from the main areas. She likes doing her all her shopping in quick order _and_ having a fairly big house to look after. We have a hot spring and a garden and everything.” She said, sounding slightly critical.

Miguel stared up at her and cocked his head. Her tone had piqued his curiosity.

“Really?” He asked sincerely.

“Oh, yes. Personally, I think it’s a bit _much._ But this is the afterlife after all, and Imelda was the one who actually bought the house and renovated it and such- she likes filling her days with looking after it. Rosita is more of the family cook, although Imelda checks her meals. I prefer tending to the library myself. I was always a bookworm. If you want me to recommend a book, I know all the authors.” She said genially, her smile widening.

Miguel paused and swallowed. He felt that she was leaving something out.

“What does Papa Julio and Tio Felipe and Tio Oscar do?” He asked.

Victoria looked uncomfortable for a moment and then sighed.

“Mijo… we…in order to make money, we run a shoe shop, just like our familia in the living world. We all run shifts, but Julio, Felipe, and Oscar insist on doing most of the work. Imelda wanted to continue the family tradition here, and she had the skills for it, so she opened it when she first arrived. The land of the dead needs shoes just as much as the land of the living.” She said slowly.

Her words immediately reminded him of his living family and their shoe shop- Abuelita watching over everyone, while the adults worked diligently and Abel and Rosa bickered lightly. And the smells- of shoe polish, tan, and the sweat of hard work- and the sounds- his familia’s voices, the whirring and clacking of the machines and his Abuelita barking orders.

He missed them all so much…

Seeing his eyes tear up, Victoria hurriedly pulled him into a hug and held him close.

“I’m sorry Miguel. I didn’t mean to remind you.” She said.

“No. It’s all right. I understand.” He said, not blaming her at all.

It was just-

A mere few hours ago, he’d been _alive_ , and at _home,_ anticipating the day of the dead and the talent competition he planned to enter to prove his love of music to everyone, and planning to ditch the big yearly family dinner and remembrance of dead familia.

Then he’d discovered the old photograph of Mama Imelda, and Mama Coco as a child, and more importantly at the time, that his great great great Grandfather had had a guitar- one he’d recognised as that of a famous musician…

Specifically, Ernesto De la Cruz.

It’d consumed his mind, and he’d run and gotten his self-made guitar and proudly shown it to his family along with the photo, expecting them to cave and accept his love for music. If their family had a musical history, then surely it mattered?

But instead, they’d discouraged him and rejected his passion.

Then his Abuelita had destroyed his guitar. Smashing it into the ground until it was nothing but little wooden pieces and bits of string.

His soul had been destroyed with it.

At least, that’s what it had seemed like at the time.

* * *

 

_“I don’t want to be in this family!” He yelled, snatching the photo from his father and running away._

_He had briefly caught a flash of hurt crossing his Abuelita’s features, while shock and confusion ruled the rest of his family._

_That was the last time he’d seen them. Leaving them with memories of a rude and inconsiderate boy rather than the person he was now._

_Someone who had learned to accept their love and consideration for him, and to return their feelings tenfold now that he properly understood just how much they meant to him._

_That had died with him. They would never learn what had happened to him, or the peace of accepting the memory of Papa Héctor, and therefore the art of music._

* * *

 

He hugged himself, winding skeletal arms around his body.

He’d been immature and condescending to the people that mattered the most to him, and he only had himself to blame.

“Miguel?” Someone- it was Papa Julio, said his name.

Tia Victoria stepped away from him and he turned around to face the rest of his dead familia.

“It’s time to go Mijo. Pepita will take us home. Then you can rest. Mama Imelda will be back by the end of the day.” Rosita said.

“We’ll see you soon Miguel. Felipe, Oscar and I will try to get home as quickly as we can. We can show you around later.” Julio piped up beside her. He had his hat in his hands and was fidgeting with it.

“Thank you, Papa Julio.” Miguel said lowly and lowered his head. He didn’t want to meet anyone’s eyes.

Julio nodded at him and put his hat on. Everyone stood around awkwardly for a few moments, unable to pull themselves together, except Victoria, who huffed and cleared her throat.

Miguel jumped slightly and quickly stood up straighter.

“Come on everyone! Enough loafing around! Imelda gave us orders. She expects us to get home in good order and get Miguel comfortable, as well as prepare the house for her and Héctor. Rosita, Miguel, let’s go. Julio and Tio Felipe and Oscar-chop, chop!” She ordered and clapped her hands, frowning at them sternly.

Miguel couldn’t help but heed her words. He headed for Pepita and climbed on her back. A moment later, Rosita hoisted herself up behind him, steadying him with a hand when the sudden movement almost caused him to slide off.

Dante followed them with a soft bark and sat down next to Pepita.

_Wait! Where’s my hoodie?_ Miguel thought, finally noticing that it was missing.

Victoria hustled Julio and his uncles again, and they quickly ran off with the officers. Then she picked something up off from the ground and mounted Pepita ahead of him.

“Here Mijo.” She said and handed the object to him.

It was as if she’d read his mind.

It was his hoodie- torn and ragged from Ernesto snatching it from him earlier, but its familiar red colour comforted him.

Something fluttered out from its pocket and he caught it before it reached the ground.

He knew what it was without even looking at it.

The photo he’d failed to bring back.

Staring at it forlornly, he traced the figures on it with a slow finger; his Mama Imelda, Mama Coco, and his Papa Héctor with his head torn off. Hurriedly wiping his weeping eyes on his hoodie, he folded the photo in half and put it away.

“Do you want me to hold that for you Mijo? I can fix it when we get home. I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can.” Rosita said kindly.

“Thank you, Tia Rosita.” Miguel mumbled and gave it to her, then he shuffled ahead and held onto Victoria’s waist, burying his face in her back for comfort.

“Right. Time to fly.” Victoria said and then glared at Dante.

“Just follow our course mutt.” She added sternly and flicked her knees to signal to Pepita that it was time to go.

The large Alebrije growled deeply and started flapping her wings.

Dante yelped and shied away before he could be buffeted by the gale, hurriedly flapping his own smaller appendages.

Pepita rose in the air and immediately took off.

To Miguel, the whole world shifted and started rushing past him.

They flew right across the city, by the clusters of dazzling homes, and over innumerable Plazas and streets.

Despite his inner turmoil, he couldn’t help but be a little awed by the sight.

He’d never been to a big city before, being stuck in Santa Cecilia all his life. A little town without much going for it.

Apparently, Mexico City was a really bustling place, hundreds of times bigger than his hometown. If not more so.

His mother had been a few times and had called it was a chaotic, noisy mess. Far removed from the peace of Santa Cecilia.

He’d wanted to experience it for himself, when he went there to pursue a career in music…

Miguel shivered and shook his head, stopping his thoughts from following that thread. After all, he didn’t want to cry anymore.

Then rather suddenly, he was struck by a bout of intense tiredness.

All evening he’d been pushing himself forward and running on an unstable mix of adrenaline and excitement. No wonder he was falling asleep…

His vision teetered and he abruptly lurched to the side. But before he could fall off of Pepita, a big hand steadied him and Rosita told him to hold onto Victoria’s back more tightly.

Mumbling his agreement, he followed her advice and leaned forward.

The rest of the ride passed by in silence.

He was grateful for it. More than anything, he just wanted to find a bed and fall asleep in it, hoping that somehow, he’d wake up back home.

Soon enough, they landed in a wide courtyard, next to a big (by his standards) house with two floors.

There were two other buildings- much smaller ones, but he was too out of it to properly look at them.

Dante landed next to them, almost crashing into the ground, and bounded up to check on him.

His cold nose woke him up slightly and he jerked up and dismounted Pepita, doing his best to stand up straight.

Victoria quickly followed suit, and Rosita got off behind him and steadied him again.

“Victoria, you go on ahead and start putting the house in order. I’ll take Miguel upstairs and get him settled in the guest bedroom.” Rosita said.

“Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen.” Victoria replied and walked off.

Miguel took a few wobbly steps forward and swayed.

“Come on Mijo. It’s easier if I just support you. It’s not that far, just inside and up a flight of stairs.” Rosita said, letting him lean on her as they entered the house.

It was so dark, that Miguel found himself blinking through the gloom.

Imelda’s house looked a lot like his family home back in Saint Cecilia. The floors were made of grey and brown stone and all the windows had white curtains and wooden shutters.

The only thing different was the furniture. It all looked old fashioned, but seemed sturdy.

Rosita ushered him upstairs and then into a comfortable looking room, letting Dante follow them in.

It was a bedroom. There was a big bed with a colourful cover, and a nightstand with a lamp on it. He couldn’t see the rest…

Rosita made him take off his shoes and then settled him into the bed, before tucking him in and kissing his forehead.

Miguel relaxed easily. The bed had amazingly soft sheets and pillows.

“Sleep well Mijo. We all love you.” She said soothingly. “You won’t want for nothing. We’ll provide for you.”

He mumbled something and shut his eyes, already drifting off.

“Dante will be here. I’ll see you later…” Her voice trailed off into the distance as he finally fell asleep.

And almost immediately, he jumped up and recoiled as he woke up somewhere else.

Somewhere bright and made of granite, and it was far hotter than the land of the dead.

Looking around, Miguel realised with a start where he was.

Ernesto’s crypt.

There were marigold petals all over the floor, and a heavy pile of them covered something- no, two objects by the door.

His stomach lurched.

A pale, lifeless hand was sticking out of them, covered by a familiar red sleeve, while next to it lay a guitar- painted white with a single gold tooth in the skull at the top.

_Why am I here? This can’t be happening! No- it’s all so vivid._ He thought, feeling stunned.

Then out of nowhere, someone started banging on the door in a soft, but constant rhythm.

An old man yelled and then cursed, and a younger, more feminine voice hurriedly apologised and retreated.

Miguel’s heart sank. He knew that voice, it was-

The door was opened and two people walked in. Two people he knew.

Santa’s Cecilia’s old gravekeeper, and his own older cousin, Rosa.

They both immediately saw his corpse.

The gravekeeper visibly flinched and hurriedly made the sign of cross across his chest, while Rosa paled and put a hand in her mouth to stifle a scream.

Her glasses fell off her nose and cracked loudly against the floor.

“Dios mio. Rosa- I’ll get the rest of your familia. And the police will need to know. Just- don’t touch anything.” The old man ordered and ran out.

Rosa could only nod numbly and stumble backwards, steadying herself on one of the crypts large doors to stop herself from falling.

Realising what she’d done, she quickly let go of it and stared at the scene before her in horror.

Miguel took a few steps towards her and reached out, hesitating to go further.

This was beyond terrible. He’d never imagined that this-

“Miguel! Why! You idiota! Your love for music killed you!” Rosa suddenly yelled and then started sobbing, covering her face with her hands.

Miguel soon found himself crying too, unable to help himself. She was right.

He stumbled towards her and tried to hug her, but something- almost like a barrier, stopped him a meter away from her.

Eyes widening, he panicked and tried again, but was stopped once more.

Hoping that he wasn’t stuck inside of the crypt, and thereby unable to see the rest of his family, he managed to take a few steps around her, before his body froze.

Hurrying back, feeling bad for leaving Rosa, he got as close as he could to her and tried to comfort her as best he could.

“Miguel…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that- “Rosa quivered, and took a step forward before quickly backpedalling.

“He said not to touch anything…” She muttered to herself, her face falling.

She looked so sad.

He wished he could properly comfort her.

For a few moments, they shared the tomb in uncomfortable silence, crying in unison.

“I- I never thought this would happen. Your parents- our Abuelita- they both regretted their words to you. Everyone was looking for you all night, but we couldn’t find you…it was only when I heard that Ernesto’s crypt had been broken into, did I think to check…but your body wasn’t found earlier, so why now…?” Rosa said, then shook her head angrily.

“That doesn’t matter now. I need to be strong for Tio Enrique and Tia Luisa…” She trailed off and started whispering encouragement to herself, too low for him to hear.

It was too much for him. He couldn’t stay silent.

Tears running down his face, Miguel stumbled towards her, straining against the strange invisible barrier.

“Don’t blame yourself Rosa!” He blurted out, surprised when his voice echoed loudly around the narrow space.

Rosa recoiled, almost tripping over herself, looking around wildly for the source of the noise. Her face was pale as a sheet.

“Miguel?” She said his name, and the world started shaking.

He tried to yell out, but found he couldn’t. Something was blocking his throat.

Then a bright light swallowed him whole.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?
> 
> Sorry for da cliffy!


	3. The Doctor of the Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acceptance ch 3-Doctor of the dead
> 
> Wew. This was a long one. Over 14 pages and 6k words! Hope you lovely readers enjoy it!!
> 
> Changed General Surgeon to Physician, because it made more sense. Will correct the other chs.

They landed on the steps in front of the department of the dead, scattering people who desperately threw themselves aside to avoid getting hit by the dragon’s large wings, and Imelda hurriedly dismounted, gently taking Héctor with her.

He hadn’t stirred once during the short flight over, or even registered her presence.

She was beyond worried. She’d never heard of such a condition in the land of the dead, and her nerves were frayed to shreds just thinking about what her dear Héctor was going through.

Struggling to keep him upright, she managed to climb the first few steps carrying him by herself, while the clerk dismounted and looked at her with clear worry.

Her husband was far heavier than she remembered.

“Umm…Senora Imelda, some officers are on their way to help us. I told them to come when they saw us land. The alebrije- Carmen was their signal.” He explained.

Imelda scoffed at him. He annoyed her greatly.

“I can carry my husband on my own. Thank you very much.” She said sharply.

He stumbled back and nodded numbly.

She took Héctor the rest of the way up, straining her bones greatly. She almost popped apart at one point, but forced herself to stay together.

The clerk walked with her, fidgeting with his hands and opening and closing his mouth a few times, clearly torn about what she was doing.

Thankfully, he didn’t dare speak up. He was annoying enough.

She wouldn’t drop Héctor. Ever.

But she wasn’t a stupid woman.

She knew she was just being stubborn, and unhelpful, by behaving the way she was.

But the last time one of her loved ones had been in danger, she hadn’t done enough. Instead of just unconditionally sending him back, she’d given Miguel some stupid conditions when they’d first tried to send him home.

She’d been so caught up in her disdain of music, that she’d put it ahead of his safety.

Absolutely unforgivable. And it _had_ contributed to the current situation. If she had just sent him back that first time…

But then Héctor would’ve disappeared on his own…

Shaking her head to shake off her guilty musing, as it wasn’t useful to dwell on failure, she pressed on with carrying Héctor the rest of the way up.

She had to stop being stubborn.

So, when a group of three officers burst out of the revolving doors and headed for her, already opening their arms to take Héctor from her and mumbling apologies for being late, she rolled her eyes but let them approach without begrudging their tardiness.

“Before you say anything, be aware that I’m not going to let go of my husband. I just need you to help me carry him.” She declared.

They stopped a foot away from her, almost colliding with one another and giving her wide-eyed looks. They obviously hadn’t expected her piercing tone.

_They probably thought I was their commanding chief_ . She inwardly snarked and rolled her eyes, heaving Héctor up.

“Don’t just stand there! Help me, imbéciles!” She snapped.

They flinched slightly, but still ran to help her.

With three other people, it was much easier to carry Héctor through the revolving doors and into the building proper.

The department was just as busy and chaotic as always, if not more so.

It was the day after Dios Los Muertos, so it was heaving with people who were probably catching up on holiday work.

Most of them gawped at her and Héctor as they passed by, but she solidly ignored them.

Imelda knew that the health department was on one of the higher levels. So, it would be a challenge to get up there.

Thankfully, the clerk ran ahead and cleared a path to a small elevator. Letting them bring Héctor inside it, with plenty of space to spare.

Leaning him upright against the side, they rode it up, and a few moments later, the doors pinged open and they carried him down the hall to the Chief Physician’s main office.

There was a shiny brass plaque next to his door. Imelda read it with scant curiosity as an officer hastily knocked on it, and then pulled it open after a distant voice gave them permission to enter.

| 

LUIS SAMANIEGO

CHIEF Physician

D.O.D

MMed, MCP, MOD  
  
---  
  
_Luis Samaniego eh. That is one list of qualifications._ She thought, as she entered with the others.

The office was split into two rooms; first, a patient room, with a curtained off side area, a small cot, and two couches; and then further on, a smaller room, with wide cabinets filled with books and files, a desk stacked neatly with papers and stationery, overshadowed by what she termed an incredibly large “devil box”, and beyond it there was several wide windows that offered the usual panoramic view of the city of the dead, and finally, behind the desk, a comfortable looking velvet chair, where the doctor sat with his head bowed, combing through a bulky folder.

He looked up as they shuffled in, and then immediately coughed and stood up, tucking in his chair and making his way towards them. The folder was left open.

Imelda blinked curiously, as she finally relinquished Héctor and let the officers lay him on the narrow cot in the centre of the room.

The doctor had a rather striking appearance. The sort of person you wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

To put it succinctly, he looked like an owl.

Most significantly, he was short. Being barely taller than Julio.

Then there was his shuffling little walk as he examined Héctor, wandering from one side to another, carefully lifting and pulling each of his limbs, frowning and muttering to himself frequently. He even checked under Héctor’s eyes.

His clothing just reinforced the owlish theme.

He had wispy white hair that was carefully combed back, over beady dark eyes behind small pince-nez that he was constantly pushing up, and he had whitish-grey bones- overshadowed by his clothing; a brilliant white lab coat, shinier than his bones, and beneath it, he wore old, worn looking, brown slacks and a jumper. On his feet he had polished black pumps.

As for his face markings, he had small golden flecks around his eyes and crisscrossing, flowery, patterns of gold and green on his cheeks.

She jumped slightly when he suddenly began speaking. She’d been so caught up in studying him, that she’d forgotten he was examining her husband.

“Initial observations aside, this seems to be a clear case of old age. All the normal symptoms are present: cracked, yellowed bones, drowsiness and fatigue- judging by the patient’s appearance and expression- and blown, crusted pupils. However, Senor Rivera appears to be on the verge of passing on, or “final death” as it is popularly referred to, without actually fading away. It’s almost as if, for lack of a better phrase, he is stuck in “limbo”. Unable to leave this world, and unable to move on into the next. How interesting. I’ve never observed such a phenomenon…” The doctor muttered clinically, manipulating Héctor’s right arm with a careful reverence and peering at it closely.

He seemed lost in his own little world. Oblivious to everyone but himself, and speaking as if his words were for his own benefit and no one else’s.

But his voice…it had a deep, rustic timbre.

She couldn’t quite place the accent-

She shook her head, recovering her senses.

Softly clearing her throat, she took a few steps forward until she was only a meter away from him.

“Err- Doctor Samaniego, I am Senora Imelda Rivera.” She introduced herself.

The doctor blinked and then looked up, gazing at her with clouded dark-brown eyes.

He smiled, then he gently put down Héctor’s arm and gingerly offered his hand to her.

She hesitated for a moment before taking it, and was rewarded with a firm shake and an understanding nod

_Oh, of course. He just wants to greet me._ She thought and chided herself for missing the meaning of it. She was just so tired.

“Mil disculpas, Senora Rivera. I got caught up in my examination. I am Luis Samaniego, the Chief Physician.” He said and released her hand, before turning to the officers.

“You can leave us alone now. I need peace and quiet to finish my diagnosis. Senora Rivera can stay because she has family rights. I don’t think her presence will harm the patient.” He added and waved them away dismissively.

They filed out quickly, leaving them along together.

“Where is the boy-Miguel?” The doctor asked tenderly, picking up Héctor’s arm again and resuming his study of it.

Imelda frowned and then sighed.

She’d met doctors like this before. Back when Coco had been little, she’d taken her to a neighbouring village to see a paediatrician for a general check-up.

The man had been innocently insensitive. Perfectly polite and consummate, but more focused on doing his job than keeping up a good bedside manner.

She hadn’t taken Coco back to him. Her Mija hadn’t liked him, so she’d settled on Saint Cecilia’s general practitioner for the rest of their medical needs.

“I sent him back home-to our home, here. Considering what had happened, I felt it was best. He was very tired and in shock. I’ll bring him in tomorrow- If that’s all right?” She said seriously, hoping that the doctor understood that the matter was non-negotiable.

“Ah, si si. Pardon, of course- the poor chico must be very poorly. Of course, you can bring him in tomorrow. Just please, come in as early as you can. It’s not that I’m very busy-well, I am, but I think I’ll need to see him as soon as he’s ready. I’m not a hundred percent sure of this yet, but I think his condition is connected to Senor Héctor’s somehow.” The doctor muttered and didn’t look up, still engrossed in his work.

Imelda was taken aback by this.

“Doctor Samaniego-” She began.

“Please, call me Don. I don’t mind. I’m too decrepit to care about formalities.” He- Samaniego said casually, still not looking up.

“Don Samaniego, what makes you think that?” She pressed.

“Well, for one, I think that the fact that Senor Héctor fell into a rather unnatural slumber around the same moment that Miguel got stuck here- do I have that correct?” He said.

“Yes. Héctor fell asleep when I failed to send Miguel home. In fact, thinking back on it…I think it was just before I pressed the Marigold petal into his chest.” She said demurely, feeling both ashamed and crestfallen upon recalling the event.

“Then, that settles it. Well, almost. I need to do further studies and have them in the same room to fully verify it. Although…hmm, there might be something else to it. To be honest, I’ve never seen this exact condition before. But the circumstances…I haven’t seen one of _those_ for a long time.” He explained absentmindedly, thoroughly confusing her.

He hobbled to his desk, his odd walk momentarily distracting her, and sat down behind it, before leaning forward and poking something on his devil box that made it start whirring. He then began moving a small device with his right hand and clicking it several times.

He was in the midst of typing something on his devil box, when he suddenly stilled.

“Oh! I almost forgot- Senora Rivera, it isn’t your fault. None of this is.” He muttered, stopping and raising his head to give her a reassuring smile.

“What?” She said, completely dumbfounded.

This man was beginning to annoy her. Despite his help, his absentmindedness was getting on her nerves-

“That Miguel didn’t make it home. You shouldn’t blame yourself, or Senor Héctor, or anyone else. And the poor chico shouldn’t blame himself either. No one could’ve foreseen this unfortunate turn of events.” He said, seeming genuinely sad.

-and immediately redeemed himself with his kind words and empathy.

“Thank you, Don Samaniego. It helps. This whole thing has been hell.” She admitted wearily.

Samaniego nodded.

“For sure. It is tragic enough when children die, but to pass on _here_ …I cannot imagine what you must be going through.” He said gently.

Imelda nodded back at him, accepting his words.

He was right. But it would take time to accept that. A long time.

“Right, where were we- oh yes, I had some idea of what was causing Senor Héctor’s condition. A poor idea, but nonetheless, it’s better than having no idea. Now, just give me a moment to look through my directories...” He trailed off and went back to looking at his devil box.

Imelda briefly fidgeted with her hands and glanced nervously at Héctor to see if there was any change in his condition.

There wasn’t. He was still deep in his uncomfortable slumber.

Huffing, she went and sat down on one of the sofas, tapping her hands together.

Samaniego seemed oblivious to her discomfort, calmly humming a tuneless melody as he manipulated his small, very strange, device, and typed on his devil box.

_I’m never going to understand those things. They seem to hold more information than a book or file…and yet, are strangely less reliable than them_ . She decided, remembering when she’d thrown her shoe at one earlier. It’d had broken easily, and smoke had come wafting out of its shell. In her opinion, that was even more evidence of its demonic nature.

She’d never bothered to ask what they were truly called. They would always be “devil boxes” to her.

“Senora Imelda, I’ve found what I was looking for.” Samaniego said brightly, looking up from his box.

“And?” She asked.

Samaniego blinked at her. Once. Then twice.

“Don’t you want to come and look? At the computer? It makes things easier to explain. I find having visuals helps me.” He explained oddly.

“Computer?” She said, feeling dumb for not understanding the word.

“You don’t- it’s just so much easier…let me explain. This machine is a computer. You can use it to type, store information, and do a variety of other useful things. It’s connected to something called a network. Basically, lots of computers come together to share information.” He said kindly.

“Oh.” She said, feeling even more dumb.

“What year did you die in-oh, 1978. So, it was just out of your time…All right! Senora Rivera, did you ever use a typewriter?” He said.

“Si. I ran- run a shoe shop, and we have to keep records somehow. In life, I used quite an old one- from the 1950s. But it worked just fine. In fact, I did all the typing because I was the best at it. I still do all of it now. We have a newer typewriter here.” She said proudly, then scowled.

They were getting off topic. Focusing on something else than the urgent matter at hand.

“What does this have to do with helping- “She started.

“Things will become clear in a moment. Let me just finish explaining.” He cut across her gently. “Think of this like a typewriter with extra features. You can type on it and create documents and such. But it’s on a screen- like a tv, but smaller- instead of paper. As for what else it can do, it can store lots of information in one small box. Of course, we still rely on cabinets and paper records- because our network isn’t sophisticated enough to support all our information yet. It turns out that having centuries of archives on dead people is hard to organise. Understand better?”

Taking a few moments to absorb all the information, she turned it over and over in her mind, before finally, finally, coming to terms with what a devil box- computer was.

Basically, they were like typewriters, plus an entire library, joined together in one small box, held together by wires and electricity.

She could work with that.

“Thank you for explaining. It all makes sense now.” She said.

“Want to come over?” He asked.

She nodded.

Getting up, she made her way to Samaniego and stood behind him, staring at the screen of the computer.

Samaniego was right. It was like a tv screen. Except slightly sharper, and much less colourful.

He had what must be a page open. It had lots of small font that she had to squint at to make out, and a few black and white pictures of various skulls.

They had very distinct markings. Eerily distinct…

She furrowed her brow at them and looked closer at the screen.

Then there was a sudden click! And everything became slightly bigger.

She managed to stop herself from backpedalling out of shock, and instead settled for lightly glaring at Samaniego.

He gave her an amused look.

“What did you do? And what is that small device?” She demanded, pointing at what had made the clicking sound.

“No need to be so put out. I just enlarged the screen slightly. It makes it easier for me to read things. I have such bad eyesight these days. And this small device is called a mouse, you use it to move the cursor around.” He demonstrated by moving the “mouse”- and a small arrow, which she hadn’t noticed before, moved around the screen.

“You can click on things to access them.” He added a moment later.

“It seems fiddly. But making text bigger sounds useful.” She conceded.

Samaniego chuckled.

“I’ll admit, it has its positives and negatives. When the system or network goes down- stops working, it’s a nuisance. I have to do all my work on paper, and it makes me realise just much I depend on this marvellous technology. Actually, that reminds me…I was just like you a few decades ago. I didn’t understand computers, or networks, or any of this at all. I was scared by it in fact. Then one day I was very brave and gave it a chance. Best thing I ever did.” He said wistfully.

Imelda sighed.

“Sorry to be pushy, but can we please get on with it? I’m worried about mi Héctor.” She said.

“Oh, right. Yes. It’s here.” Samaniego said quickly and pulled the page up slightly.

There was a header at the top of it:

CURSES AND SUPERSITITIONS OF THE AFTERLIFE: STEALING FROM THE DEAD. THE ROBBERS CURSE.

_Wait, isn’t that what Miguel did? He never accepted-or got to accept, Héctor and I’s blessing. Is he still cursed?_ She realised starkly, stricken by the possibility.

Samaniego watched her dawning horror with a sombre expression, eyes alight with gentle understanding.

“Let me explain in better detail. It’s not as grim as it sounds, but it’s not as clear cut as I’d thought it would be. I’m afraid that we don’t have enough information on souls getting stuck in the land of the dead- with a relative not passing on at the same time. It seems that Miguel’s situation is the first of its kind. And on Dios los Muertos no less…though as I said, let me explain.” He said and cleared his throat.

The first subtitle was “Explaining the curse”.

“Although a rare phenomenon, over the years grave robbers and such have gotten stuck in the land of the dead, cursed to remain until they are forgiven and granted a return to the land of the living before sunrise, the eternal deadline. Most are sent home with a familias blessing and a stern warning to not tell anyone about the afterlife. However, there are cases where the unsuspecting thief either did not have any known family among the dead, or were simply too late in obtaining a blessing for whatever reason. Therefore, they ended up passing on before their time, their bodies returned to their final resting place under a haze of marigold petals, to serve as a warning for others not to follow their fate.” He read out and paused to catch his breath.

Imelda found herself both awed and disgusted by the passage. Partly because she’d never know about such curses, and desolate that it had happened to Miguel of all people, respectively.

Her poor grandson hadn’t meant to steal from the dead. He had been foolish, yes, but his punishment was too unjust for an unknowing mistake.

Samaniego gave her another pitying glance and then continued. The next section was titled “Life after death”.

“As for their life after their unnatural passing, those in the land of the dead are singled out with unique facial markings. These are meant to both distinguish them from natural deaths, and make their transgressions clear to all. Very few of these cases have been documented. More information is needed to make this side of the phenomenon clear.” Samaniego finished with a frown.

“Look, there are some pictures. Apologies for the low quality.” He added and pointed at the pictures she’d briefly caught earlier.

They were indeed very blurry, and the black and white quality did little to make the skulls clear. But she could make out that the markings were vastly different from her own.

Her heart skipped a beat.

_They’re so…I hope he doesn’t- I hope I was just mistaken_ . She futilely prayed.

“Can you read out the rest?” She said shakily, wanting to move on.

Samaniego nodded and did so.

The article continued under the pictures.

“Although, there are thankfully no other differences. Just like any normal soul, they stay on until their living family either dies themselves, or forgets them. There’s only one more section, on “Further documented effects and theories”. It’s rather short. So, we can talk about possible paths forward after I finish reading it.” He said.

“Unlike the distant remembrances of most, it has been noted that they suffer rather vivid dreams of their living family. A few sufferers have even given examples of being present at their funeral, their familia’s mourning, and at their grave. Some even say they’ve come close to actually communicating with their relatives. But there has been no significant study or record of this phenomenon, so it is unverified.” He finished with a sigh, and stared forlornly at the screen.

Imelda let the tragedy of it all consume her for a single moment, then she took a deep breath and raised herself up, doing her best to pull herself together. The time for despair was over, it was now time for action.

“Right. Does this information- can we do anything with it? To wake Héctor up? Or help Miguel?” She said.

Samaniego looked up and blinked at her, then coughed and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry. I got carried away again. Just thinking- almost marvelling in a way, at this conundrum. It’s been years since I’ve come across a surprise like this. A new problem, I mean. Don’t take this as me not caring. I do. A lot. But I can’t help but be a bit excited. Academically.” He rambled unevenly, face flushed. He sounded elated. A bit too much so for her patience.

“Don Samaniego, you’re getting carried away yet again.” She said tiredly, getting annoyed with him.

“Oh- sorry. Well, to answer your question, I think that Miguel’s condition is definitely tied to Senor Héctor’s. I’m positive of that now. Maybe it has something to do with the vivid dreams- maybe Miguel’s possible strong ties to his body is affecting Héctor somehow? Or maybe Héctor’s history will show a connection? Yes! I’ll bring up his profile. Oh-I’ll also input Miguel into our records. As a precaution.” He said excitedly.

Then he hurriedly moved the mouse and clicked something, before there was more loud clanking as his fingers flew across the bulky keyboard.

The noise rattled her mind and she glared at the offending machine, resisting the urge to throw her shoe at it. She’d been up far too much, but it was all for Héctor she told herself. The tiredness was worth it.

“Ba ba ba…here we are.” He said and beckoned her to look at the screen.

Bringing her head up, she flinched slightly when she saw what was on it.

There was a low quality black and white picture of Héctor, obviously taken in detention in police custody. He was glaring at the photographer, eyes ablaze with determination, with his mouth pulled into a firm pout.

Underneath it there was a long list of infractions, too numerous for her to read, and further on there was a general description of the deteriorating conditions of his bones over the years.

She averted her eyes after a moment. It was too painful. Being reminded of the unjust suffering she’d unwittingly put him through.

Samaniego noticed her expression and frowned.

“Don’t worry Senora Rivera, I’ll just skim through it. Okay. Let’s see…was arrested for rushing the marigold bridge- woah, over a hundred times, and for dressing up as Frida Kahlo numerous times…. twice as his “father” …once as an Alebrije…. Not really relevant to our enquiries, so I’ll move on.” He started.

Imelda smiled sadly upon hearing about Héctor’s desperate efforts to reunite with Coco. It was so like him. He the silliest man she’d ever known, but also the loveliest.

“His bones…almost a hundred years old…typical yellowing and age etcetera etcetera. All supported by my last study, nothing untoward here. Riiight, living relatives and their memories.” He trailed off with a hum, scrolling down.

She startled; interest peaked by the new section.

Forcing herself to look, she swallowed as she saw all the names of her living family members with crosses next to them, meaning they did not remember her husband. Only one had a tick next to it, their beloved daughter, Socorro. And even she had a N.B next to her profile, saying that her memory was fading and very fragile. She would forget him soon.

Then she saw Miguel and flinched. He was still listed as living…

“After we’re done, I’ll correct it.” Samaniego said quickly and scrolled back up.

Imelda mumbled a terse thanks and then looked away.

She didn’t know why this was happening to her beloved familia. Was it their fate? Their fault? No- that would be implying it was Miguel’s fault to suffer his fate, and she would never think that.

She just wanted her family to be back together and in one piece, and that meant solving Héctor’s condition and accepting that Miguel was dead, and getting him to accept that fact too.

“Okay Senora Rivera. After seeing everything, I have some conclusions about what’s causing your husbands condition. It is obviously linked to the fragmenting memories of your living daughter, and Miguel’s curse- the latter happened at the exact same time. But I can’t really be sure- you must understand, more research will need to be done. I’ll definitely need to see Miguel and possibly look into the archives. And not just the usual surface-level archives, but the deep, rarely disturbed, basement archives.” Samaniego informed her suddenly.

She turned back, just in time to see him visibly shudder, and frowned at his reaction.

“What is it?” She asked, concerned it was something to do with her family.

“It’s nothing. It’s just- the dust.” He said.

“The dust?” She said, furrowing her brow.

“In the archives. I hate going there. Renata will- It’s got nothing to do with what we’re talking about. I’m also sad about Miguel. If he needs counselling, we have it.” He offered quickly.

She glared at him lightly, but didn’t press his obvious deflection and moved on.

“So, what are your primary conclusions?” She asked.

“Well, first of all, I think what’s keeping Senor Rivera here- in his current coma-like state, is your daughters fraying memory. I mean- she must’ve not forgotten him completely. Pardon my bluntness, but she is just very, very old and near death. Her father must be nothing more than an ancient dream to her by now.” He said gently.

Imelda sighed wearily.

“That’s rather obvious.” She stated.

“Ah- then moving on, well, the archives- I’ll need to see the curses and myth section. The ancient, very dusty, long-forgotten curses and myth section. It’s been so long since we’ve had to study it. It must be very dusty.” He said wanly and swallowed, before quickly shaking his head and pulling himself together.

“This is my second conclusion- I think we have a real mystery on our hands here. Possibly even into “never-before-researched” territory. As I said earlier, this isn’t something I’ve seen before. It stumps me a little. I have no idea how we’re going to cure Senor Héctor, but I’m sure there’s a way. I can _feel_ it. I know it sounds strange, but I have a knack for these things. The old archives hold the key. I can’t wait to help you.” He added, sounding very excited by the prospect.

“So, how do you propose we got about this? If I bring in Miguel tomorrow, how soon will you be able to go to the archives?” Imelda cut to the chase, ignoring his excitement. If there was a possibility her familia could be helped sooner than later, she wanted to get to it and not waste time.

“If I see him in the morning, and examine him in conjunction with Senor Héctor…plus arrange my orderlies and fellow doctors to take over my patients and duties…I should be able to go into the archives by the end of the day. Probably after hours- don’t worry, I don’t mind staying late. I’ve done it before and I want to help you. I’ll get Renata to stay as well- she shouldn’t mind. The department will be more difficult, but I’m sure I can persuade them at such short notice…they owe me.” He mumbled and stroked his chin, clearly calculating things. “So, it shouldn’t be too long on the administrative side. It just depends how long it takes to find the information we need.” He finished with a grin.

Imelda mulled things over for a moment, then raised her head and met his gaze defiantly.

“I want to come with you. I want to help Héctor as much as I can. I promise I won’t get in the way.” She said sternly.

Samaniego blinked, then smiled.

“All right. But what about Miguel? If you’re going to be here tomorrow, and if his examination takes a while, then I’m guessing you’ll stick around rather than fly your Alebrije home? Don’t you lie a good distance from the city centre?” He said.

Imelda blinked.

“That’s- that’s actually quite a good point. He is distressed enough- I wouldn’t want to leave him on his own here, just when he’s arrived in this new world. And as for waiting during the day, I don’t know what we’d do.” She admitted.

“Hmm.” Samaniego intoned and stroked his chin more, looking thoughtfully at her, then he nodded and brightened up.

“How about you show him around town? It’s better to do it sooner than later, especially at a time when it’s likely to be more deserted due to people still resting after Dios los Muertos. The streets should be practically empty, and many businesses shut- but you could show him around the centre, the Alebrije stand, the park- commercial areas. Although, only if he’s ready for it.” He suggested gently.

_Again. Samaniego has good ideas. He just needs more tact. He’s an okay person._ Imelda inwardly decided.

“Si. I’ll think on it. And I can just fly him home and come back in the evening on my own.” She decided.

Samaiego cocked his head at her.

“Hmm.” He intoned again, a deep rumble in his throat.

Imelda stared at him, wondering what he was thinking.

“Y’know, don’t take this the wrong way- but you’re quite a feisty woman, Senora Imelda. And from I’ve heard of your family, they have a certain stubbornness and determination to them. I know we were literally just discussing things, and it’s very early and you’re very tired, but I must mention that I am getting a sinking feeling- from just talking about him- Miguel, I mean, that he won’t want to go home after coming here tomorrow.” He said suddenly.

“I’m not offended. But Mi Familia- you’re right about them. We are very stubborn and such. But Miguel- what are you inferring?” She asked.

“Well, I think he’ll want to stick around and help. I mean- just like you, he’ll want to look in the archives to help Senor Héctor. And well…even if I must admit that I’m not overtly fond of the idea- in my experience, children and heavy filing systems rarely mix well- I think we can sneak him in.” Samaniego said jovially and then abruptly laughed.

Imelda frowned, then realised that her jaw had dropped. She was speechless.

“Ah! Your expression of surprise! Sorry. I laugh easily. Now, you must be tired enough of listening to me drone on and on. Let’s finish things up here, and get you back home. As for- “He started, only to be cut off by a sleepy voice that made them both jump.

“I-Imelda?” Héctor’s raspy but kind voice startled her.

Imelda immediately whirled around and ran to him. If she still had her heart, it would’ve jumped out of her chest.

Héctor was sitting up in the cot, yawning and looking around with blinking eyes. He seemed woozy and disjointed.

She caught him just as he nearly toppled over, and gently eased him back, cradling him in her arms.

“Si. It’s me. I’m here my dear.” She assured him, stroking his hair.

Héctor smiled at her, making her heart seize.

Behind them, she heard Samaniego get up, but fortunately, he stayed back, obviously giving them space.

Héctor looked at her for a few moments, then suddenly paled and started looking around wildly with open eyes, forming a panicked expression.

She immediately knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” She asked.

“Where is- where is our Socorro? Isn’t it early- too early for school?” He said quickly.

_Huh- w-what?_ She thought.

“Héctor…don’t you realise- “She started and quickly shut her mouth. Héctor looked at her worriedly, then yawned again. He was sagging in her arms, and she could tell he would fall asleep again soon.

_No. I shouldn’t worry him. He can’t remember. That, or he’s stuck in the past somehow, for some reason. I should- calm him._ She decided.

“She’s still asleep, silly man. You know she wakes up after you. I’ll get her in a moment.” She lied, pretending to chide him gently. She felt terrible for doing it, but she had to.

“Ah, yes. Silly me. Thank you…Te quiero mucho, Imelda.” He said sleepily and laid back, eyes drooping heavily.

“Wait! I remembered- where is Miguel?” He suddenly surged, forcing himself up again and resuming a panicked look. She had to ease him back again.

“Miguel is at home” She said, hoping it meant he was remembering the present.

“Isn’t this his home? But isn’t he too old to be our son? What is -“ Héctor rambled.

“He’s here silly, and he wants to see you.” Imelda assured him quickly, very worried by what was going on.

It was as if he thought that Miguel their second child.

“He does? Oh yess….how silly of me. We-we took him in. I’m still his Papa! We sang together.” Héctor said, calming down.

“Go back to sleep mi amor. I’ll look after everyone.” She said.

“You always do. Just…tell Miguel and Coco I love them…Let me just…have five more minutes.” He slurred and finally dropped back to sleep, snoring gently.

Imelda eased his head off of her lap and got up.

She was tired herself, and more heartbroken than anything by this new strange quirk of Héctor’s condition. She wanted to go home and rest.

And bring Héctor with her. She’d promised Miguel after all.

If he woke up again, she wanted to be near.

Turning to Samaniego, she saw that he was both shocked and surprised, but with competing interest playing across his features.

“Well, that was surprising- especially him calling Miguel his son. Maybe Senor Héctor can recover more quickly than we thought?” He mumbled, then quickly composed himself. “It just means I need to do more research. Now, do you want me to escort you out, or will you be good to go on your own?”

_Ah. He doesn’t know of my intention to bring_ _Héctor home…of course he doesn’t._ She thought, fearing she was about to have an argument on her hands. Samaniego, although scatter-brained and somewhat annoying, had been very respectful and accommodating of her wishes, and had even taken future issues and Miguel into consideration. She didn’t want to potentially disagree with him.

But if she’d really have to, she’d put her foot down.

“Well, the thing is, I can’t leave alone- I promised Miguel I’d bring Héctor home. And if Héctor wakes up again, he’ll need me to calm him down.” She said, trying to not sound argumentative.

“Ah.” Samaniego said and looked crestfallen.

“Senora Imelda, I really can’t…It would be best for Senor Héctor to be held overnight. With his condition- constant travel really isn’t the best for him. Especially on an Alebrije like yours. He could fall off, or wake up again. And on that factor- I mean I can see your point. You did promise Miguel, and you would be able to calm him down. But he might panic if he sees Miguel- the poor boy could be taken aback by his new views of him. I’d rather you stay here than- “He argued, then stopped himself and sighed defeatedly.

Imelda shook her head sadly at him, and put a hand on Héctor’s head, indicating her possessiveness of him.

“No.” She stated simply. “I promised Miguel. And he’ll need to see Héctor- that he’s still here and hasn’t faded away. He was so worried about him.”

Samaniego turned away and ducked his head slightly, obviously mulling her thoughts.

Then he turned back and nodded.

“Very well. I really don’t want to argue you with you, and your family. And I just had a thought. You- your whole familia, took down Ernesto De La Cruz on Dios Los Muertos, at his popular closing concert. Everyone in this city knows it- but they don’t know about Miguel yet. That he has failed to return home and is stuck here. You might be swamped by the paparazzi when they get a whiff of this new story.” He warned.

Imelda flinched slightly, realising she hadn’t thought about that as well. She’d been up for almost 24 hours, and her tired mind wasn’t taking everything into consideration.

“Wow, you’re tired.” Samaniego said with a small laugh, then became serious. “So, taking into consideration everything, I suggest you hurry home while you still can. I’ll ring some officers to help you get Héctor onto your Alebrije. And I’ll try to get them to hush up about Miguel. The last thing the boy needs is mass attention.”

Imelda came to herself.

“Yes. Thank you very much. For everything, Don Samaniego. As for tomorrow, I’ll call you when we can come in. I’ll help Miguel get ready today.” She said.

The rest of it was a rushed blur.

The officers came, they helped her get Héctor out, they rode down the elevator and exited the building.

She perked up slightly when she saw Pepita and her Alebrije gave her a comforting low growl and a warm look, telling her that Miguel was all right.

She mounted her, put Héctor in front of her, and together they took off for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?
> 
> Next chappy is much shorter! And it’s gonna be Miguel POV and rather slow. Plot’s gonna be on the backburner for several chapters.


	4. Where does it go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New week. New chapter. Nuff’ said. 
> 
> No real plot this chapter, but just character moments. I’m still trying to get into Miguel’s head and write him in character, so please tell me if he is OOC. 
> 
> And writing this chapter made me laugh.

Miguel shot awake, lungs heaving as he struggled to rein in his breathing.

 _What was that-that nightmare?_ He thought blearily, flinching slightly when something furry plastered itself against his left side and began licking his face. Waving it away, he looked down after he heard it whine.

He blinked, amazed that he’d been so silly.

It was just Dante, who’d stopped his ministrations and was staring worriedly at him with his big soulful eyes.

 _Of course, it’s Dante…who else would it be?_ He chided himself and hugged his Alebrije close.

Then someone opened the door to his room, making him tighten his arms as he unconsciously reacted to having his solitude invaded.

The person stepped in-

It was Mama Imelda.

He sighed and relaxed his hold on Dante, sitting up to greet her with a small smile.

Imelda bustled in and shut the door gently behind her, giving him a worried, but very tired look. It was clear to him that she needed rest…so what was she doing here?

“Miguelito? What’s wrong? It’s only been an hour or so-I heard you scream just as I came upstairs.” She said softly, hurrying to him and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Miguel swallowed. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to lie about his strange nightmare, but for some reason, sharing it felt _wrong._

Not that he didn’t want to. But he didn’t want to make Imelda even more worried for him. He needed to get her to rest-

“Miguel?” She repeated his name, her voice low.

He looked up and met her gaze head on. She looked even more concerned.

Dante whined loudly, trying to telegraph to her that everything wasn’t fine.

“Shhh. Dante, let me talk.” He shushed his Alebrije.

“I-I’m fine. I just had a bad dream…it was-quite bad. I-I was-” He tried to say more, but choked on his words, tears spilling from his eyes.

He was so pathetic. It was all his fault…

Imelda winced at his expression and quickly gathered him up in her arms.

“Shhh. Shhh. You can tell me about it later Mijo. Just know that I don’t blame you at all. For anything. You need to get more rest. It’s only been a few hours.” She said.

“Mama Imelda- _you_ need rest. You can leave me- “He began, wanting her to leave and look after herself rather than waste time on him. And he didn’t know how he would go back to sleep anyway, not when he had the hell of his nightmares awaiting him.

“Shhh. Miguel, you’re my priority. You’ll always be my priority. Let me just think…ahhh, how about I sing you a lullaby?” She suggested.

“A L-lullaby?” He said, feeling genuinely curious.

He’d never heard one before.

Because of the Rivera ban on music -and truth be told he’d only learned about this fact years after his own childhood- his grandmother only permitted humming to calm down babies in the family, acknowledging that as they were so young and therefore cried a lot, it was okay to do so to quieten them. But she still drew the line at spoken words and having a real beat.

His mother had never sung him to sleep. And now Imelda- who’d only just regained her love for music, and was going through so much- was willing to do it for him. He felt quite touched.

Even if he wasn’t a child anymore, and should be mature enough to not need it, he wanted one.

“Yes…I used to sing for Coco- at least before Héctor left. And well, you know the rest of it. Do you want me to sing you to sleep?” She said.

He nodded eagerly.

“Yes please.” He said quickly, realising he hadn’t been polite.

His Mama Imelda just chuckled lowly and smiled at him, unable to help herself.

“Right. Lie back. I just need to think about which lullaby to sing for you. I haven’t forgotten them- but I need to choose which one would be best for you.” She said, looking thoughtful.

Miguel nodded again and fell back, making himself comfortable against the pillows. Dante settled next to him, panting quietly. He seemed more at peace as well.

“Okay- this is _Arrorró mi niño._ It’s a very old song. It was the one I’d sing the most for Coco. Although she often begged for Héctor…” She trailed off wistfully. “I’ll sing and then I’ll go check on him.” She added, then cleared her throat and started singing before he could say anything.

It was beautiful- no _breathtaking._

Just like her rendition of “La Llorona” at the Sunrise Spectacular, he could feel the desperate heart and emotion in her voice. She was truly singing for him, meaning every word.

“ _Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi sol. Arrorró pedazo, de mi corazón.”_ She sang softly.

Miguel tried to appreciate the verse and raise his head to hear more, but it was already lolling back and his vision was blurring from sleepiness. The song was already affecting him.

It was a simple lullaby. That, he could tell…but he’d never heard something so gentle…

A song so full of _love._

“ _Este niño lindo, ya quiere dormir; háganle la cuna de rosa y jazmín._ ”

Actually, he had…only hours ago…when Papa Héctor had briefly sung the real version of “Remember Me” to him in Ernesto’s prison.

His hazy mind tried to latch on to that fact and rouse him with panic, but he mentally swatted it aside.

His eyes were now drooping, and he just wanted to enjoy the song for what it was. He didn’t want to feel worry, or fear, or anything bad.

Mama Imelda was so kind…

_“Háganle la cama en el toronjil, y en la cabecera..”_

…and so lovely…

“ _pónganle un jazmín, que con su fragancia-“_

…to someone as undeserving as him.

_-me lo haga dormir.”_

He heard a distant sob-

He lapsed into unconsciousness, the softness her voice calling him to dreamless rest.

* * *

 

The second time he woke up, it was far more peaceful.

Settling against his pillow, and a sleeping Dante, Miguel moved in his slumber until his face went right into his Alebrije’s wet nose.

The result was that he whined and then jerked awake gently, opening his eyes blearily and frowning sleepily upon seeing a green nose.

Shaking his head, he yawned and then gently pushed the covers away before sitting up slowly, waking Dante in the process.

He barked and sat up as well, thumping his tail happily against the sheets.

Miguel shushed him and patted his snout, telling him to be quiet.

He looked around, realising that he was alone. Mama Imelda was gone.

It made him panic slightly.

He had to find _someone_. He didn’t want to be alone.

Getting out of bed, he wobbled on his feet and quickly leaned against the wall for support. Breathing in and out slowly, he tried to clear his head.

It was all coming back to him-

His failure, the flight, his nightmare, Mama Imelda and her Lullaby…

Upon recalling her singing, he managed to calm his nerves and pull himself together.

 _I have to be strong. I have to be strong. For Papa Héctor. For Papa Héctor._ He repeated to himself. A mantra to stay resilient.

Dante suddenly barked excitedly and hopped down from the bed, running to the door and pawing at it.

“Dante, I’m not ready yet.” Miguel said. “I just need to prepare myself- for seeing everyone.”

Dante whined and stopped, starring at him worriedly.

“Don’t worry. I-I’m okay now”. Miguel said, not really believing it.

Dante continued staring at him, expression unchanged.

Miguel huffed, feeling slightly annoyed. But not at Dante. At himself.

Because the truth was, he wasn’t okay. But he was better-ish. At least a little.

 _And I have to be strong._ He rallied, thinking about Héctor and the others.

Standing up straight, he nodded at Dante, who perked up, and walked to the door.

But before he could open it, he was hit by a dizzying wave and stumbled back slightly. Dante ran to him and hurriedly nosed him.

_What is-_

Miguel’s stomach rumbled loudly, a guttural noise that broke the tense silence.

He couldn’t help it- he burst into laughter.

That’s right. He hadn’t eaten for a whole day, since he’d missed eating with…

“Come on Dante. Let’s find something to eat!” He said quickly, pushing down his worries with a small smile.

He couldn’t think about that now. He had to be strong.

Dante barked and resumed wagging his tail.

Together, they left his room and went out into the corridor.

Miguel paused and looked around, entranced by what he saw.

Now that he was fully awake, he could properly appreciate the vibrancy and gaiety of Imelda’s home.

The windows were all fully open, shutters moving gently in the breeze, allowing sunlight to stream in and highlight the house’s clean white walls and the numerous pictures on them.

He could see photographs of skeletons, of his family members and other people, and paintings of various locations, such as wooded hills and open seas. Further on, he could see flowers in pretty vases on the tables in the hall.

The sound of birdsong drew his attention to the nearest window, and he walked to it and peered out, eager to see what was making the noise.

Looking over the courtyard, he blinked away the sunlight as he caught sight of little skeletal creatures flying around the trees and fauna.

 _Are those birds??_ He thought. _Hmm. I wonder what they’re like? And as for the rest of the city…_

Raising his head and looking beyond the estate, he could just make out other houses and a road, curving away, and beyond even that, in the fair distance, a few trolleys flying through the air, and then the city-

“Ah Miguelito! You’re awake! I thought I heard you!” A bright voice said.

He recognised it immediately.

Turning around, he greeted his Tia Rosita with a shy smile.

Rather strangely, she briefly flinched, but quickly regained her composure and gave him a warm smile in turn.

“Can I please have something to eat? And what time is it?” He asked, not pressing her reaction, guessing that she was just shocked at seeing him.

He was a child after all- a dead child. The thought made him suppress a shiver.

“Sure! And it’s almost midday. You slept for a long time Mijo. Come on, I’m making some chicken with salsa, with rice and some simple vegetables-beans and such.” She said and motioned for him to follow.

The mention of food made Miguel want to drool, and he chuckled when Dante actually started drooling.

Following Rosita, she led him down the stairs and into a bright, spacious kitchen with large windows. It had a stone cooker and oven, several cabinets, and a sink, all topped by a shiny black-red counter, next to it was an old-fashioned looking fridge, and further on, a table with a faded red tablecloth. It was set for three.

On the stove, a big red pot was boiling next to two smaller ones.

He could smell something delicious. It made his stomach rumble loudly again.

Rosita giggled and gave him a fond look as she went over and opened the larger pot, then got a wooden spoon from the side and started stirring it.

“It’s almost ready. I’ve made enough for everyone.” She informed him.

On hearing her mention the others, he began looking around, trying to spot them.

“Where is everyone?” He said.

“Oh. Lo siento. I forgot to tell you. Oscar and Felipe are tending to the shop- they always eat later, Julio and Imelda are still resting- but knowing him, Julio will be up soon, and Victoria is in the library- she wants me to get her when it’s time to eat. She wanted to wait until you were up.” She said kindly.

He swallowed.

“And Papa Héctor?” He asked.

Rosita’s face fell.

“He’s still asleep. Imelda is resting with him. She brought a blanket and pillows upstairs and is insisting on sleeping by him while he rests in her bed.” She said.

Miguel’s heart fell, but he didn’t cry.

He had to be strong.

“Can I do anything to help?” He said.

Rosita looked worried for a moment, then shook her head.

“No. I’ve done everything. Today is a rest day for you Mijo. Imelda wanted that. So, you don’t have to do anything. If you want, we- well I have to go shopping, I need to buy clothes for you and some groceries, and I’ll fix your hoodie when I get home- but Victoria can show you around today?” She said.

“Sure. I’d like that.” He mumbled, relieved about his hoodie, but struggling to muster up more than meagre enthusiasm otherwise.

It’s not that he didn’t want to explore the house and the surrounding estate, but he’d hoped that he could be given something to occupy his mind _now._

It was hard not to think about _them;_ his loving, living family.

His nightmare was still on his mind.

Poor Rosa finding his body, her crying, and then her shock when she heard him-

He started shaking, tremors racing across his body as he remembered the _pain_ in her voice.

“Miguel?” Rosita called him desperately.

“Yes?” He replied quickly.

Rosita was still smiling- although, it seemed somewhat sad. Hopefully, she hadn’t noticed his lapse.

“Umm, it’s ready. Do you want to wash your hands? And then you can sit down while I go and get Victoria from the library. I shouldn’t be too long.” She said.

“Oh- okay. In that case, where’s the bathroom?” He said slowly.

Rosita had made him remember his Mama Elena and how she’d fuss over the children before meals, lecturing them to go and wash up.

She was always so stern, and yet so caring…just like her own grandma.

Lost in his reveries, he barely heard Rosita cough nervously.

“Huh?” He said and stared at her. “What’s wrong Tia Rosita?”

“Nothing Miguel. I just- it’s all a bit much for me at the moment. It’s nothing you need to worry about.” She stated, squeezing her eyes shut.

Despite her assurances, he was worried.

He had to comfort her.

But before he could step forward and offer her a hug, she opened her eyes and gave him a pleading look.

“You can wash your hands here Miguel.” She said, gesturing to the kitchen sink which had a small bottle of deep-green liquid that could only be soap.

“Why?” He said, feeling apprehensive about her behaviour.

“Mama Imelda…will explain it to you. It’s- the Chief Surgeon told her a lot. The visit really took it out of her. She learned some things about your condition that really worried her.” She explained.

“What?” He muttered.

“Mijo…let me get Victoria and then let’s just have lunch and move on for now. Please.” She said desperately.

He stared into her eyes and then nodded slowly, deciding to just go along with her wishes than risk stressing her further.

Rosita relaxed and ruffled his hair affectionately.

“Thank you. Just give me a minute. Victoria likes to hole herself up in the library. It can be a pain to break her out of her little world sometimes.” She complained lightly and left the room.

Watching her go, he sighed and went to wash his hands.

Hovering over the large stone basin, he reached for the soap and then froze, staring at his skeletal hand with trepidation.

When he’d woken up, he hadn’t been bothered by his skeletal body. In fact, he hadn’t noticed it at all.

Unlike last night, when he’d first…skeletonized, it all felt normal. Like his skin, but lighter.

Flexing his boney fingers, he pulled his hand into a fist and then relaxed it.

The sound of approaching footsteps quickly broke his concentration, and he hurriedly washed his hands as best he could before Rosita and Victoria entered the kitchen.

Victoria paused in the doorway and gave him a small smile.

“Everything all right?” She said, as Rosita rushed ahead of her and began fussing with pots and plates.

Miguel could only nod dejectedly.

“Yeah…well, don’t worry. Rosita told me you wanted a tour, so I’ll take you around the house right after we eat.” She said jovially.

“Please sit down! I’m about to serve. Miguel, you can sit at the head of the table. Victoria and I will sit next to you.” Rosita suddenly barked, already scooping some chicken with brown sauce onto a big plate.

Victoria laughed and herded him to the table.

As soon as he sat down, he was greeted by a large droopy head on his lap, and a pair of puppy-dog eyes staring up at him.

Realising that Dante must’ve been waiting under the table, so he could strike at the opportune moment and beg, he sighed exasperatedly and patted his Alebrije on the head.

“I’ll sneak you some food later, okay?” He whispered.

Dante whined and withdrew.

It amazed him just how much his Alebrije understood him.

“Just for today Miguel.” Victoria said with wry amusement, sitting on his left. “Be glad Imelda isn’t here.”

He pretended not to know what she was talking about and adopted an innocent expression, making her laugh.

Just then, Rosita came bustling around with two steaming plates and set one down in front of him, and then Victoria, before leaving to presumably get her own.

Miguel leaned over his food and sniffed deeply, drawing in the smells.

It really was wonderful…and again, it reminded him of home. But he was so hungry that couldn’t bring himself to be depressed about it, instead he embraced the similarity.

There was chicken, rice, beans, and some tomatoes, all dipped in rich brown salsa.

Reaching for his fork to start eating, he stopped when he heard a small harrumph!

Looking up, he blinked when he saw that Victoria and Rosita were both reaching out to him. Although, they seemed understanding.

“Oh.” He said and took their hands, bowing his head in prayer.

Together, they thanked God for the meal, just like he had done with his living family.

He tried to take spiritual solace in that fact.

He wasn’t alone, and he would one day see them again…

Letting go, he finally picked up his fork and scooped some food onto it.

Feeling the heat radiating off it, he started blowing gently on it to cool it down. Raising it to his mouth, he stopped suddenly and stared at his plate.

“What is it Miguel?” Victoria enquired, as Rosita already had her mouth full and thus couldn’t talk.

“Where does it go?” He asked concernedly.

“What?” Victoria said, sounding completely confused.

“The food. If I eat this, will it go through me and end up on the floor?” He said.

Before Victoria could answer him, a tap on his right shoulder made him look over at Rosita.

She smiled at him and then swallowed her food.

It didn’t end up on the floor. In fact, it vanished into nothingness.

“No one knows Mijo. I mean- we still get nourishment from it, and if we don’t eat, we feel hungry.” She told him.

“It probably goes into an invisible stomach.” Victoria deadpanned.

Miguel laughed lightly at her stern humour.

Rosita smiled warmly.

“Come on, let’s eat up before it gets cold. And yes Miguel, you can give Dante a _little bit._ ” She said.

The rest of the meal passed by in comfortable silence.

Every now and then he swiped a bit of sauce on one of his hands, or a small piece of chicken, and let Dante eat it.

After emptying his plate, he felt much better than before.

Victoria cajoled him into coming with her while Rosita cleaned up, but he only left after she assured him it was okay and that she didn’t need any of his help.

They passed by a sitting room as they walked through the house and Miguel peaked inside. It had all sorts of chairs and a big sofa, with a small old timey tv at the far end. There was also a desk piled high with papers.

Dante ran ahead of them, woofing happily, even when Victoria told him to shut up as Imelda was still asleep.

First on their agenda was the library, a small rather dusty room with lots of books precariously stacked on wide shelves. The only furniture in it was a worn sofa and armchair with a small table in between them, in the middle of the room. It was free of books aside from a small orderly pile. The windows were rather tall and thin, but still brightly illuminated the room nonetheless.

Dante rushed into the room as soon as Victoria opened the door wider, and ended up crashing into a shelf at the far end. But he quickly bounced back and resumed wagging his tail, completely unperturbed by his accident.

Victoria rolled her eyes but Miguel laughed and smiled at his Alebrije, who beamed back at him.

“Stupid Xolo…Here, Miguel, make yourself comfortable.” Victoria said and sat down on the sofa, patting the open space next to her.

Miguel slowly approached her and sat down uneasily. The sofa was mushy, but very comfortable.

To be truthful, he was a bit intimidated by the sight of so many books. He’d never seen so many.

Dante joined them a moment later, curling up snuggly next to his legs. He understood that he wasn’t allowed on the furniture.

“This is my little sanctuary. It’s the quietest place in the house. You’re welcome to come here as much as you like. Just tell me before you take a book. I like keeping track of all of them.” Victoria said sagely.

“ _All_ of them?” He said, unable to believe it.

“Si. You see, I worked in the main library back in St Cecilia. In fact, I was the head librarian for a while. I had to organise all the books and deal with all the customers- you wouldn’t believe how many overdue books there were. People came up with so many excuses to avoid returning them, and then they had the gall to complain when I fined them for being late. It was a pittance.” She muttered heatedly, looking really annoyed.

Miguel supressed a snicker. He found her exasperation funny.

“What was your strangest story?” He asked.

“Bah. There were too many. But this one old woman -I remember her because it was more than once- she loved borrowing old romance novels and holding on to them for weeks upon weeks. The annoying thing was, she would _cry_ when I eventually harangued her into returning them.” She complained steadily, then frowned.

Miguel smiled. Victoria looked a lot like Mama Imelda in that moment.

“She cried?” He said.

“And she begged me not to take her “romance” away from her. It made no sense- she had a loving husband and four grown up children. So, she was never lonely. And when she came to pick up books, she was always going on and on about her “lovely family and husband”. I never understood her.” She said, throwing an arm out exasperatedly.

Although he didn’t quite understand her, Miguel couldn’t help but laugh openly at her gesture.

“Why are you laughing?” Victoria said, seemingly affronted.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel apologised genuinely. “It’s just- you look so much like Mama Imelda.”

“I get told that a lot. Neither of us are very amused by it. So- do you like reading Miguel?” She ventured, trying to make conversation.

“I never read many books. In fact, I can’t remember when I last read _anything_.” He confessed.

“Dios mio! Really?” She said, looking stunned.

“Y-yeah…” He stuttered.

 _My father, and Rosa, were always the main readers in the family._ He thought sadly.

“Well then! We will have to change that.” Victoria said strongly, distracting him from his worries with her seriousness.

“Hmm Hmm Hmm…I don’t have many children’s books, and you don’t strike me as the type who would like old fashioned classics. Moving on, there was that one series everyone was raving about a few years ago…” She added, muttering to herself.

Then she abruptly got up, and began walking towards one of the shelves with a focused gaze.

He watched her go with a furrowed brow, confused at her departure. Even Dante raised his head and stared at her.

“Ah! Here it is!” She said and removed a book from a low shelf with a flourish, before coming back and brandishing it at him.

It had a colourful cover of a boy on a broom over a lake, with a white owl flying next to him. He could make out the words “ _Harry Potter and the Philosophers stone”_ on the front.

“Harry Potter?” He said out loud.

“It’s English- about some boy who goes to a school for wizards. It’s a long series, but it’s good. I read all of them a few years ago, but I can’t remember much of it I’m afraid. I read so many books I get lost in them.” Victoria said breezily.

He took it from her and thumbed over the cover, admiring the fine illustration.

The boy on the broom looked like he was having fun, and the owl next to him almost seemed to be his Alerbije…

“Do you want to read it now?” Victoria said gently. “I’ll stay with you- we can read together a bit?”

“N-no. I’d rather just talk. If that’s okay?” He said, putting the book aside. He was genuinely interested in it, but he’d look at it later.

He was afraid that If things got too quiet, his thoughts would wander back to his living family and he would be swallowed by despair.

 _And I have to be strong!_ He repeated to himself, unconsciously clenching his fists slightly.

“Sure. Do you want to ask me some more questions?” Victoria helpfully suggested.

“Yes!” Miguel piped up, almost desperately, dragging himself away from his dark thoughts.

He had to be strong.

Victoria raised a brow, surprised at his outburst.

“I mean- can you please tell me more interesting stories from when you were a librarian?” He said quickly.

“Of course! I have so many. In fact, it feels good to _vent_ to someone. I’m remembering so many annoying people...and many not so annoying people.” Victoria stated evenly, but with a hint of humour.

Miguel settled in and listened to her as she began recounting her years in the library, and all the customers she’d served.

He eventually recognised a few family names and their conversation coalesced into talking about the history of St Cecelia, something he knew very little about.

Even if it was a little painful to talk about his hometown, Victoria was just so animated and knowledgeable about the subject, that he found himself carried along with her enthusiasm.

At one point he almost asked her why she hadn’t married and started a family of her own, but forced himself to keep quiet.

His…living family had never spoken much about Tia Victoria, because they’d wished to respect the “privacy” of her memory. So, even if she was right in front of him and probably would’ve welcomingly answered his questions, he did the same.

She’d tell him about her personal life when she wanted to, if at all.

As they were talking about St Cecelia’s more recent history, Victoria suddenly leapt up and cursed softly under her breath.

“What is it?” Miguel said.

“We’ve been chatting for far too long- it must be mid-afternoon by now!” Victoria chided herself. “I need to show you the rest of the house.”

“I- I didn’t mind. I had fun taking to you.” He admitted readily.

“Well- thank you Miguel. That’s very kind of you to say. But come on, I need to show you around, and then you need to have a bath in the hot springs.” She ordered.

“Why? I can always have a bath here later. Why do skeletons need to bathe anyway?” He blurted out before he could stop himself.

No one had said anything about having to _wash._ Surely, he didn’t need to-

“You’re beginning to smell Miguel” Victoria stated bluntly. “You haven’t bathed in more than a day. We still need to bathe here- little boys especially.”

“But- “He began

“No excuses. I’ve heard them all. But I’ll let you have this; you can bathe _after_ the tour.” She contended, as if it was a real consolation.

Miguel pouted at her sullenly.

“Don’t look at me like that. That expression might’ve worked on Rosita, but not me. I grew up with a younger sibling- “. She stopped briefly, looking uncertain of herself, then sighed and continued. “- so, I know all the tricks.”

He froze.

“You’re talking about Mama Elena.” He said sadly.

“Yes.” She confirmed.

He took a shuddering breath and focused.

His dear Mama Elena- the family member he’d been the cruellest to…

A few tears fell, but he hurriedly wiped them away with his shirt and took a shuddering breath.

“Was she like me?” He said.

“Yes…you have the exact same expression. When she was forced to do something- a job she hated, like sweeping the courtyard, she’d complain and complain and make that face…” Victoria said softly, seemingly lost in the past. She was crying as well.

They spent a few minutes just softly weeping, silently mourning the family member they mutually missed.

Eventually, Victoria sighed and removed her glasses. Drying them with a small handkerchief from one of her pockets, she slowly stood up and turned to him.

“Let’s-let’s move on and go somewhere else. Try to continue the tour.” She said unsteadily.

Miguel mumbled his agreement, and together, they left the library. Dante walked sullenly next to them, his tail low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?
> 
> Victoria has a secret…
> 
> Also, the lullaby Imelda sings Miguel is a real song. Will link later. 
> 
> La siento-I’m sorry.


	5. The Guitar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor plot this chapter. Sorry for it being short, but it turned out that way. 
> 
> I felt bad for Miguel this chapter. But don’t worry, things will pick up soon!

The rest of the tour went by in a blur. The Rivera household was massive.

Victoria took him to the garden first, full of beautiful flowers and other plants he’d never seen before, and after that she briefly showed him around the small shoe shop the family ran at the front of the estate, where Papa Julio and Tio Oscar and Tio Felipe were hard at work making and selling shoes. They briefly stopped and smiled sadly at him in greeting.

Thankfully, they quickly moved on, as the shop sharply reminded him of his living family.

Victoria then showed him the hot springs in a small hut at the back of the courtyard. It contained two pools of steaming hot water, and smelled sharply of rotten eggs. Miguel dreaded having to bathe in them, but Victoria told him it was healthy and relaxing, so he took her word for it.

Before they left the courtyard, she briefly showed him the gardening shed and another small building that was Felipe and Oscar’s “den”, where they experimented with machinery. Apparently, they were trying to create a new device to polish shoes, but weren’t having much success.

Then they went back to the main house, and she gave him a proper tour of all the rooms.

The top floor had 6 bedrooms; the master bedroom that belonged to Imelda, Rosita’s, Victoria’s, Julio’s, Felipe’s and Oscar’s shared room, and the guest bedroom that was now his.

There was also a large bathroom with two large baths with shower extensions, separated off from one another, meaning one was for men, and one was for women. There was also a large sink and cabinet. For some reason, Victoria refused to let him go in, and the mirror above the sink was covered…

It made him feel uneasy.

But she hurried him along and took him back downstairs, wanting to show him the living room and a small office Julio and Imelda used.

Rosita came in just as they were finishing up, and she gave him a big smile and waved her massive shopping bags at him.

Apparently, she’d gotten him a good amount of clothing- simple things as she didn’t know his size yet, and promised to get started on his hoodie as soon as she could. It all came from quality, family run shops she knew.

She let him pick out his clothing for after his bath, and he chose a simple white t-shirt and a pair of slightly frayed jeans.

As for shoes, she’d gotten him a pair of smart pumps for going outside, and a pair of casual loafers for the home.

Then the tour was over, and it was finally time to bathe.

Nervously following Victoria back to the hot springs, Miguel swallowed dryly as they entered it.

Victoria had made Dante wait outside, despite his pained whines of protest, with the justification that he’d get in the way and distract him from bathing.

“Don’t worry, I’ll soon leave and give you some privacy.” She assured him. “Let me just get you a towel and some soap.”

He waited on the side as she went around, opening a cabinet he hadn’t seen before and getting out the aforementioned objects.

“Right. You can just leave your old clothing here, and I’ll come and get them later. I’ll be with Rosita in the house, helping her make dinner.” She said and leant down to his level. “Need anything else?”

“Umm. I don’t think so.” He mumbled.

Victoria put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

“Courage, mijo. Just have a quick bath and then come back inside. I’ll feed that mutt for you.” She said, giving him a reassuring smile and then leaving the room.

Miguel swallowed again. He was alone. Completely alone. Without even Dante.

 _I have to be strong._ He thought and undressed, folding his vest and pants as best he could and putting them next to his new clothing, along with his old sneakers.

Looking at them reverently, he sighed. They were the last thing he had of home, aside from Dante and the picture.

Shaking his head, he turned and got in the smaller of the two pools.

He shivered as he sank into the water, then leaned back against the rough granite wall backing the pool.

It was really, really hot. And smelled terrible.

But Victoria was right…it was very, very soothing.

The heat sank into him and made him relax. He could feel the stress leaving his body.

His body…

He looked down and lazily stirred the water with one of his bony fingers, studying the rest of his skeletal structure with vague interest.

Sure, he could feel the water soaking _through_ him, and it was a strange feeling, but otherwise…

Just like earlier, he didn’t feel at all different from when he’d had skin. With everything else that had happened, he felt like he just didn’t _need_ to panic over his new being.

He thought about all the things Héctor had done with his own skeletal body; how he had used his arm like a bow, drawing it back and shooting it up at Frida Kahlo’s window, and how he’d danced around on stage at the talent show, falling apart and reforming easily, performing tricks with his bones to impress the audience.

He wondered if he could ever do the same…

He bristled. What the heck he was _doing._

He shouldn’t be wasting time lazing around, not when Héctor was still in a coma. And he still had so many other things to do; like helping his familia, and comforting Imelda if he could- she’d been so tired when he’d seen her last night.

Reaching for the soap, he hurriedly washed himself, making sure to cover every inch of his bones _,_ and then got out.

Drying himself off with the towel, he giggled when he reached his ribs. The little follicles of cotton were _ticklish_ on his exposed bones.

Biting his lip to stop himself from laughing, he finished drying the rest of his body and then hung up the towel on a rack.

After dressing in his new clothing, he quickly left the hut.

Dante greeted him with a happy yelp and a wag.

“Hey Dante!” Miguel said breezily and reached down to pat his Alebrije, laughing loudly when Dante jumped up and leaned into his chest. The Xolo was hugging him!

Miguel smiled and increased the speed of his ministrations, becoming rougher.

Dante, who was not the brightest of dogs, took this as a sign that his owner wanted to _play,_ play. He therefore promptly knocked Miguel over with a high jump and then crawled on top of him, lathering his face with smelly kisses.

Miguel gagged. Dante’s breath _stank_ of meat.

“D-dante.” He mumbled, laughing loudly.

They spent a few minutes like that, simply enjoying one another’s presence and play wrestling, until a sharp cough made them both hurriedly get up and stand up straight, adhering to the unspoken order to pull themselves together.

“It’s so good to see that you’re happy.” A much-missed voice said.

Miguel finally looked up and broke into a broad smile when he saw who had spoken.

“Mama Imelda!” He called out happily and ran to her, hugging her fiercely.

“Ooph.” Imelda grunted, falling back slightly, before she chuckled and returned his embrace.

“Dios, you’re strong.” She joked.

Miguel just shut his eyes and buried his face in her chest. He’d missed her so much…

“Hey, hey, Mijo. I heard you had quite a busy day. Victoria showed you around and you even ate some of Rosita’s food! Good boy.” She praised him.

Miguel took a deep breath and leaned back to look at her properly.

Imelda had a new dress on, a red one, and her hair was looser with just one tie keeping it together. Although, she still looked very tired.

He had to ask her about _him._

“How is Papa Héctor?” He asked slowly.

Imelda sighed.

“Still asleep. He- well, I’ll tell you after dinner. It’s almost ready…Miguel, can I just show you something?” She asked, tracing his face with a finger. Her eyes were suddenly full of sadness.

“S-sure.” He said, letting her take him by the hand and lead him into the house.

Dante followed them with a worried gait.

They passed by the others, who waved at him, and went upstairs and into his bedroom.

Imelda told him to sit on the bed, and then she sat next to him, fidgeting with her hands.

She was nervous. And it startled him. Something was obviously _wrong._ Very, _very,_ wrong.

“Right…damnit, how do I do this?” She mumbled, then shook her head and turned to him.

“Miguel…your facial markings are _different_ from mine, and everyone else’s. It has to do with your curse- how you got here.” She said, trying to stay calm.

Miguel hitched a shallow breath. He hadn’t expected this.

“What?” He said.

“Here. Please don’t panic. Everything is okay.” Imelda said, handing him a small mirror from one of her pockets.

Miguel stared at her worriedly, then shifted his eyes and looked into it.

Almost immediately, he gasped.

Dante whined at his reaction and pawed at him anxiously, but he gently shook him off, too stunned to do anything but stare, just _stare,_ in horror at his reflection.

His face-

Had _black_ markings.

They were completely black. There wasn’t a hint of colour. And they were…sharper than the rest of his familia’s markings.

His eyes had black speckles around them- instead of purple, or green, or gold- shaped like stars, and his now sunken cheeks had little black whirls that curled around his mouth and ended in sharp downturns. He looked demonic, almost evil.

He started shaking, and dropped the mirror.

Thankfully, it missed Dante and hit the carpet instead.

“Miguel!” Imelda yelled worriedly, and hurriedly pulled him around to face her.

“Mama Imelda?” He muttered her name lowly, and then flinched, taken aback by how _hollow_ his voice sounded.

“You…you looked so lost. I’m sorry. I thought I was being careful enough. I should’ve waited.” She apologised, and started crying softly.

“N-no. You don’t have to apologise to me. Mama Imelda, I-I just didn’t expect it.” He hurriedly assured her and hugged her again.

He was suddenly struck by how utterly terrible everything was. He began crying too.

It was all his fault-

“No, Miguel! It isn’t your fault! None of this is.” Imelda said tenderly, gently pushing him back and gazing into his eyes imploringly. She was still crying, but her eyes were full of determination.

He sobbed and sniffed, realising that he must’ve spoken out loud in his despair.

“Listen- you’re a brave, strong boy who simply made a mistake. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.” She said.

“But I took Héctor’s guitar! I didn’t think things through. My love for music killed me- “He wailed, remembering Rosa’s words from his nightmare.

“No. I won’t hear it. You were hot-headed and you didn’t think Mijo. But you- you really wanted to help our familia, didn’t you?” She said gently.

“But I was being selfish! I didn’t care about them enough.” He argued. He was so caught up in his suffering, that he didn’t care what he said to justify his hateful feelings.

“Maybe you thought you were…but you were just going against the music ban, and more than anything, probably wanted it to end. That thing was always stupid- I should’ve had more faith in Héctor. In my family. What we stood for. You should’ve been able to practice music with the comfort and acceptance of your family.” She said angrily, crying harder.

“Mama Imelda…if I’m not to blame, then you’re not to blame. Please don’t- don’t be angry at yourself.” He choked out.

“Miguel…” She said desperately and hugged him to her chest.

“Let’s save Héctor together. Whatever it takes, let’s save him and show him how much we love him.” She vowed.

“Yes.” He agreed.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, then Imelda brushed his hair back and eased him away.

“I’ll tell you everything after dinner. My visit to the chief surgeon was complicated, but very helpful. He…Samaniego has a good idea of how to wake Héctor up.” She said.

“And, umm- I have something to tell you- everyone, as well.” He hurriedly said, remembering his unusual nightmare.

“Miguel…” She repeated his name.

“I’m okay. But it’s- I’ll explain later.” He said.

“All right. Now, let’s go downstairs. Julio had something he wanted to give you before dinner.” She said and motioned to the door.

They left his room and headed downstairs. He patted Dante as they went, telling him he was a good boy.

Rosita and Victoria were busy in the kitchen, while Julio was laying the table. Oscar and Felipe were nowhere to be seen.

“Julio.” Imelda called out softly.

Julio jerked up, then turned around and smiled at them. He quickly finished laying the table for seven and hurried out to greet them.

“Hello Miguel.” He said.

“Hi Julio.” Miguel said and smiled wanly at him. He was glad to see his great-grandfather.

“The officers at the Sunrise Spectacular gave me something to give to you. Oscar and Felipe went to get it- they wanted it to be a surprise. I just wanted to give it to you straight away, but they argued me down.” He said.

“Oh- “He opened his mouth, only to be cut off by the front door opening and two excited voices calling out in joy.

He turned around and his heart leapt.

Oscar and Felipe had a guitar- Héctor’s _guitar._

He ran forward and excitedly took it from them, running his hands over it reverently.

“It’s for you. You can do whatever you want with it.” Oscar said.

Miguel raised it up and strummed it; a clean, melodic noise.

 _It’s actually…here._ He though, briefly awed, then narrowed his eyes and took a closer look at it. Something had caught his attention.

For a moment, it was still Hector’s guitar, and then it wasn’t.

It was too new. Too unloved.

The white paint was bright and uncracked, the gold tooth in the skull at the top was a deep, gaudy colour, not the light tint it had been in real life, and the strings were all neatly in place, not worn at all.

 _Whose guitar is this?_ He thought with a jolt.

“Miguel, it belonged to Ernesto.” Oscar explained, as if reading his thoughts.

Miguel backpedalled, almost dropping the instrument.

This was the guitar of his enemy; how could he even touch it?

“Oscar, you dummy. It’s as much his guitar as it is mine. The bastardo- “Imelda cut Felipe off with a sharp glare, making him swallow the swear word “Uh…I mean _idiot,_ never played it. He only used it once a year during Dios Los Muertos, at his Sunrise Spectacular concert. And even then, he only used it in a few songs. The rest of the time it was in a glass case at the theatre, as part of a showcase of his “brilliance”. He had it checked over after every performance. The guards gave it to us before we left- they’d taken it out for him, but felt it was only right for us to have it.”

“So, he murdered our brother-in-law and stole his music, and all we get is one crummy guitar for compensation? Bah! They should give us all of De La Cruz’s stuff! Even his fancy house.” He then joked.

Everyone glared at him, but Miguel was oblivious. He was too busy staring at Ernesto’s guitar with wide eyes.

“I see.” He said, finally understanding.

Everyone turned to him and stared in surprise.

_I had it right earlier. This guitar just simply hasn’t been loved at all. So…_

He strung it and played a few simple chords, from top to bottom, and smiled softly.

 _I’ll treat it better than Ernesto De La Cruz ever did. I’ll share my music with the whole world of the dead, and make it feel loved._ He vowed to himself.

“Dinner is ready!” Rosita called out loudly, making everyone jump, and breaking his moment.

“Come on everyone! You know how angry Rosita gets if her cooking gets cold!” Julio called out and herded them all into the kitchen.

Miguel sat down with his family and put his new guitar down by his side, while Dante curled up at his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?
> 
> Longer chapter next week, but less plot driven. Plot picks up in Ch 7.


	6. A Family Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a day late, but I went without internet for the majority of Sunday, as we had a large ass storm in our area and they externally shut down the wifi. 
> 
> But here I am! Might give this chapter another look over, but I’m happier with this one than last weeks. 
> 
> Unfortunately, next week’s chapter is gonna be another short one...but it'll be on time!
> 
> Thanks to all who commented! Continue doing it!

Imelda hadn’t slept well.

She’d taken up a bunch of blankets and pillows, determined to sleep on the floor and let her Héctor have her small bed so he could rest properly. But unsurprisingly enough, the cold stone of the floor wasn’t exactly comfortable to sleep on.

And there’d been too much noise.

It was primarily because of Héctor- although, she didn’t blame him at all.

He’d kept grumbling in his sleep. His nightmare having fully returned.

He would moan for her or Coco, and to her surprise, even _Miguel_ sometimes _._

It was as if his care for his grandson had surpassed his fracturing mind to become a treasured part of his memories. Back in Samaniego’s office, he had even thought that Miguel was their adopted son.

Miguel meant a lot to her as well…He was family, but not her son…

When she’d first arrived, while Felipe and Oscar were getting Héctor settled in her room, she’d heard a yell of panic, making her heart lurch, and had instinctively ran to Miguel’s room.

The poor boy had had a nightmare.

She’d sang him to sleep. And afterwards…

She’d cried. Overwhelmed by what she was feeling and how over-protective she already was of him-

Anyways, she’d gotten her stuff, made her way to her room, and tried to sleep on the floor.

Eventually she’d given up, and had crawled into bed with Héctor, curling on top of him as there was no space otherwise. She had been so desperate to get some rest, that she was desperate enough to get close to him.

She hadn’t meant to, but she’d quickly fallen asleep.

She’d woken up a few hours later in the same position, and had quickly looked at Héctor, hoping against hope that he had at least stirred with her awakening.

But no, nothing had changed. He was still deep asleep.

She’d refused to let it get her down.

She’d tucked him in, then gotten up and had a quick shower, before dressing and going downstairs.

She hated leaving Héctor alone- but she had to see Miguel and make sure he was all right. She would be back soon anyway.

Everyone was very glad to see her, and Victoria informed her that Miguel was in the hot springs.

Before going out to find him, she’d asked her familia if they had followed her instructions from earlier; to cover every mirror in the house and to not tell Miguel about his new facial markings.

She’d had nothing to worry about. They had followed her instructions perfectly, trusting her judgement and that she wanted to tell Miguel herself. Out of all of them, she was the only one that had been a mother, and understood how to tell children precarious things.

After all, she’d had to tell Coco about why her Papa had gone…

Then they’d heard excited squeals and shouts emanating from the courtyard, and she’d run out to see what was making the racket.

It’d been Miguel and Dante. Playing.

So carefree and so joyful. Just like…

It’d warmed her heart with a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. One she’d quashed straight away, as it wasn’t appropriate.

She’d only ever had one child-

Focusing on her great-great grandson, she’d coughed loudly when his play fighting with Dante had become too rough. His new clothing had marks on them.

Miguel had sheepishly gotten up, as well as Dante, only to burst into a massive grin when he’d seen her, and had run over and glomped her, almost knocking her over.

The feeling in her heart had swelled, and she’d briefly given into it.

Seen Miguel as her _son._

He was _her_ baby.

Hers to protect and nurture and raise.

She had sung him to sleep earlier after all, just like she’d done with Coco all those years ago.

It’d been so long since she’d had a child in her life….

And having just been reunited with Héctor…

Her pathetic, tired mind had seen Miguel as the child they’d look after together, to make up for the life that bastard Ernesto had stolen from them.

Then Miguel had looked up at her and she’d seen his sharp black markings, identical to the ones on Samaniego’s computer, and cruel reality had come crashing in.

He wasn’t her child. He was the son of her great-grandson Enrique and granddaughter-in-law Luísa. They were his real parents. Not her.

She’d just been so tired and desperate…

But she’d forced her feelings down and had taken Miguel inside to show him the truth of his condition.

And his reaction had broken her heart.

Then had come the tears, the doubt, and the _blame-_

It had made her own deeply repressed worries come spilling out.

Of the stupid music ban, her loss of faith in Héctor, and her fears that she’d hurt her familia.

And behind it all, the pain of growing old without Héctor and not having raised Coco with him- missing decades and decades of memories and love and comfort.

Then Miguel had comforted her, giving her a big hug to calm her down.

He was so strong, and so brave…

He’d worried her when he’d started mumbling about a bad dream, but had promised to tell her later.

Because they had to go to dinner and meet the rest of their familia.

And she’d had a surprise for him.

That damn guitar that the officers had given to Julio as part of some asinine “reparation”.

At first, she had wanted to throw it away in the river, but Julio had stopped her, arguing that having a musical instrument would help Miguel.

Playing the guitar was in his soul, and even if it was the guitar of his enemy, it would help him through such a difficult time.

And he’d been right.

Miguel had seemed at _peace_ after playing it.

Then Rosita had yelled about dinner, disturbing their moment, and she’d bustled them into the kitchen to sit down.

Leading to the present.

Sitting next to Miguel, she said her prayers with everyone, and then started eating their light dinner- enchiladas and tacos, that Rosita had spent all afternoon painstakingly making.

“Soooooo, what are we gonna do after dinner?” Felipe piped up after a few moments

Still angry at him for his earlier slip up, Imelda glared lightly at her younger brother. Felipe was more extroverted and humorous, even at inappropriate times, than his twin. He irked her to no end. But she still loved him.

“We need to sit down and have a nice long chat about my visit to the Chief Physician, and what it means for Miguel. The next few days are going to be very long.” She said.

Felipe groaned, while Oscar chuckled at him.

“I have something to tell you all as well.” Miguel admitted slowly. “Something bad.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay Migueltio.” Rosita comforted him. “Let’s talk about something brighter. Leave the serious and depressing discussion for after dinner.”

Imelda nodded. She wanted a break from all the doom and gloom, even if it was only a brief one.

“Well-Miguel, what did you think of the house?” Julio said conciliatorily.

“I think it’s great! I had a fun day- Tia Victoria showed me the library, and I had some delicious chicken and salsa made by Tia Rosita.” Miguel said genially.

“Ah. That’s so nice of you to say.” Rosita preened.

“Oh, and Victoria gave me a book.” He said and smiled at his bespectacled aunt, who heartily returned the expression.

“What did you think of the hot springs?” Julio asked. “Relaxing, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. A lot. I almost fell asleep. My umm, _body_ didn’t bother me.” He said slowly.

“it never does.” Oscar assured him. “You get used to it pretty quickly.”

“Yeah…Mama Imelda, you’ve been pretty quiet. Are you okay?” Miguel asked her suddenly. He sounded very worried.

“I’m fine. Just thinking about…everything. What book did Tia Victoria give you?” She said quickly.

“Umm. It’s called Harry Potter.” Miguel said, moving on, even if he still seemed somewhat apprehensive.

Imelda listened intently as Miguel explained what the book was about, and how he thought the owl on the cover seemed like an Alebrije.

She couldn’t help but smile, then sighed.

She should bring _it_ up.

“Are you going to play Ernesto’s guitar?” She said.

“Yeah. If I can- I can’t give up on music. It’s part of who I am, and I need to get better at it so I can play with Papa Héctor.” Miguel said, determination creeping into his voice.

“Good. I can teach you some more songs. If you want.” She said, meaning it.

It was strange to think that a mere day ago, her reaction would’ve been the exact opposite; discouraging and denying his passion for music than supporting it and loving it with him.

She had her Héctor back, even if he was in a strange coma.

“I’d like that Mama Imelda. You- you sing very beautifully. Thank you for this morning.” Miguel said and smiled at her adorably.

She smiled back, feeling her heart swell again.

“This morning?” Rosita asked gently, and reached for another enchilada.

They were almost done.

“I had a nightmare and Mama Imelda sang me a lullaby. It sent me right to sleep.” Miguel said.

“Aha- I remember Imelda used to do that for Coco all the time, before Héctor left. Coco loved them and would sing along as best she could.” Oscar said softly.

“She always remembered them- mio Coco, I mean. When we first met- on the mariachi plaza, she would tell me about them, and about how much she missed her mother’s singing.” Julio piped up wistfully, tearing up slightly before quickly wiping his eyes with a hand.

Imelda huffed, her throat seizing up.

“Really? Can you tell me more- about Coco? _Please._ ” Miguel pleaded.

Julio smiled and obliged.

Everyone leaned in slightly, eager to hear old stories about their long unseen relative, and in Miguel’s case, stories he’d never heard.

Imelda listened carefully as well, doing her best to not cry. Hearing about her Coco and how old she now was, made her remember how much she missed having a child and being a mother.

And so, that’s how the next hour or so went; Julio telling them stories of his relationship with Coco.

Of how he’d sneak out at night to meet her dear daughter in the Mariachi plaza and how they would dance and dance for hours, the joy Coco had exhibited when he had asked her to marry him, even being willing to give up music to be with her, then their lovely wedding- something Imelda could vividly remember as being one of the happiest days of her life, and the birth of their children, Elena and Victoria, and how he and Coco had grown old together before his untimely death from a heart attack at the age of 75.

Even when she left several times to check on Héctor, who was unsurprisingly still sleeping, Julio was still talking animatedly when she returned. He barely paused for breath.

“I miss her so much.” He admitted as he finished reminiscing.

“Me too.” Imelda mumbled.

Everyone looked crestfallen, especially Miguel.

“She….” He started, then shook his head and bit his lip.

Imelda understood. He’d been about to assure Julio that Coco was very old and would be coming to join them soon, but he’d shut his mouth as he knew it meant confronting the possibility of Héctor disappearing.

She’d seen her daughters’ condition at the last-at last year’s Dios los Muertos. Her poor Coco was wheelchair bound and didn’t pay attention to anything. She’d had a vacant, blank look around her familia, and had seemed more dead than the actual dead.

Wanting to raise Miguel’s spirits by giving him hope about Héctor and her news from the Chief Physician, as well as their visit and plans for tomorrow, Imelda cleared her throat before anyone else spoke and stood up.

“We have some important things to talk about. I have much news from my visit today. Good and bad. But there is hope.” She explained.

Miguel brightened up slightly and helped her clear away the table while everyone else did the washing up.

Then they went into the sitting room to talk. Victoria and Rosita sat next to Miguel on the main couch, while the men took random chairs, and she stood in front of them.

Miguel had brought that damn guitar with him, and started strumming it nervously as everyone made themselves comfortable.

But she ignored it and instead started outlining her visit and what she had learned.

Beginning with Samaniego’s inspection of Héctor, how he’d made the connection to Miguel’s condition and arrival, and the explanation of Miguel’s curse- which made everyone wince and the boy pale considerably and touch his face in shock. She smiled at him but moved on to explaining the nuances of his curse, only for him to cry out when she got to the part about dreams. The noise disturbed her so much that she froze mid-sentence.

Miguel was shaking and hurriedly hugged the person who was nearest to him, in this case Rosita, in a death grip.

“Shhh. Miguelito. Shhh.” She whispered to him as everyone looked at them in pity.

“That’s what your nightmare was about- you saw your body. Something terrible.” Imelda said gently, wanting to scoop Miguel up into her own arms.

He nodded hastily.

“Yes. I-I wanted to tell you all. But I- I just couldn’t.” He rambled.

“Shhh. It’s okay. We all understand.” Rosita told him, squeezing him closer.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Imelda had to resist running to him. Rosita was comforting him just fine. Miguel didn’t need to be coddled by her.

Even if she felt his pain as her own…

Slowly shaking her head, she sighed and waited for Miguel to calm down.

After a few moments, he backed out of Rosita’s embrace and patted Dante for assurance, nodding at her to continue.

“I’ll go on in a moment. But mijo…you can tell us about your dream whenever you’re ready. Not even tonight, if it’s too difficult.” She said.

“N-no. I should tell you now. Because it might help Héctor. Something- something surprising happened.” Miguel said evenly, managing to rally himself.

 _He’s so strong…just like Héctor._ Imelda marvelled, then stilled when she caught on to the meaning behind his final words.

“” Something surprising happened”? Miguel, do you want to tell us now?” She offered gently. If something was wrong, she wanted to know sooner than later.

“Umm…I’ll go after you. I don’t want to get in your way- and I want to know about Papa Héctor.” He said.

“All right. I’ll get on- there isn’t too much left to say anyway.” She replied quickly.

She hurried through the rest of the meeting; Héctor’s criminal records, Samaniego bringing up the archives, and then his conclusions and belief of a real mystery in regards to their issues, but nevertheless still holding out significant hope they could help Héctor, and then she reached the bit where she’d butted in and cajoled Samaniego to let her help, and even bring Miguel along with her.

Her whole familia laughed as she explained his calm reaction to her pressing him, almost as if he’d expected it. Even Miguel chuckled lightly.

“I think I’d like to see the city. If it’s easier than flying back here- as long as we go to quiet places. I’d love to see other Abebrije, and the park.” Miguel said with a small smile.

“That’s good. Because what happened next was…very difficult.” Imelda said, realising she’d reached _that_ part.

When Héctor had woken up.

“It was very surprising. Even Don Samaniego didn’t expect it…well…Héctor woke up for a few moments.” She said slowly.

Everyone gasped, save Miguel. He just stared at her with a wide, searching hope that made her heart clench, given that she would have to dim it with what she said next.

“But he…wasn’t himself. He thought he was back in St Cecelia- in 1920, just waking up on any regular day. He asked about Coco…and you, Miguel. He thought you were _our_ son. That we’d adopted you or something. His mind is all mixed up-mistaking the past for the present.” She said.

Miguel eyes widened in disbelief and his jaw went slack. He seemed completely and utterly blown away by her news.

Everyone else just blinked and then look at him with frank concern.

“He quickly fell asleep again. Then I managed to convince Samaniego to let me bring Héctor back here. He expects Miguel and I to come to the Department of the Dead tomorrow- as early as possible, and bring him back with us. He wants to examine you Miguel, and study Héctor again- to see if there is a connection between you.” She finished up, wanting to be with her Grandson.

Walking over, she kneeled in front of him and clasped his hands in her own.

“Remember what I promised you Miguel. That we’d help Héctor together. He can be saved.” She said softly.

Miguel nodded minutely.

“It’s just…I miss my parents. Papa and Mama- they must be so worried. Mama, she’s very pregnant. And my sister, I won’t ever know her. And they must’ve seen my body by now- just like Rosa.” He mumbled, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

 _Poor Mijo. And his poor parents. And Rosa?? Finding his body?? Dios mio._ She panicked.

“That’s what I saw in my nightmare. When I feel asleep, I dreamed- I woke up next to my body, in the living world, in De La Cruz’s tomb. It…it was covered in Marigold Petals, just as the physician said. Then Rosa and the old grave keeper came in. She’d obviously expected to find me there. She said my love for music killed me…I tried to comfort her, but I couldn’t. Something stopped me.” He continued rambling, gazing at them all with panicked eyes.

“It’s okay Miguel. Don Samaniego said something like this would happen- it was mentioned in the file for the curse. We’ll get through this.” She said and stroked his hair.

“But there’s more- I called out to Rosa, telling her not to worry. And she heard me.” He revealed.

Imelda felt her ribcage turn to ice.

She hadn’t expected this- for Miguel to face even more hardship.

Her poor Mijo had suffered enough. She was oblivious to the rest of their familia but him.

“Samaniego never mentioned this…but maybe he knows something? Or there’s something in the archives?” She said desperately.

“Maybe...but what should I do? If I have another dream like that- I mean, I can’t stay silent if I see them mourning me. I just can’t.” Miguel whispered.

His eyes were drooping with tears.

“If you have another nightmare, try not to say anything- just try to wake up, okay? And then come find me in my room- I’ll sing you another lullaby. You can sleep next to Héctor if you want.” She promised, not hesitating at all.

Miguel brightened up slightly.

“R-really?” He whispered.

“Of course. You’re mio Mijo.” She said, smiling at him.

“Thank you, Mama Imelda. I’ll try to keep it in mind.” He said.

“Right then…I think we’re done.” She said lightly and got up, reluctantly leaving him.

“Okay, if that’s everything, then I’m going to bed. It’s just past 8pm- I know it’s early and all, but I’m going to fall asleep standing up if I have to stay awake any longer.” Julio said, reminding her how tired she was.

“You don’t want to watch TV?” Felipe chimed in incessantly. “Usually you love watching it with us.”

Julio shook his head, but Imelda wasn’t focused on him.

“Can I watch some? How many channels do you have?” Miguel said excitedly, doing his best to cheer up.

Imelda sighed, without really meaning it. She should’ve known this would happen.

“Yes, _we_ can watch some. The Land of the Dead has proper studios and everything- there are hundreds of channels. But we only have access to the general network, nothing specialised.” She said, surprising everyone., and turned to her son-in-law. “Julio, please check on Héctor before you go to bed. I’m going to be down here for a while.”

Julio nodded and left.

“Mama Imelda! Are you sure? You look so tired- wouldn’t you rather rest?” Miguel said quickly.

“Yes, I am sure Mijo. And to be truthful, I need a distraction than to return to Héctor just yet. It makes me depressed seeing him the way he is…ahem, even If I usually can’t stand TV, I’ll watch it with you.” She said.

“In that case, you can take my seat Imelda. I’m going to follow my brother to bed- after I start on Miguel’s hood.” Rosita said, vacating her place next to Miguel.

“Thank you.” Imelda said and took it, a curious Miguel quickly sidling up to her.

Rosita smiled and followed her brother out.

“I’ll go soon.” Victoria said “I just want to see Miguel’s reaction. Our TV really is terrible- it’s all vapid and has no educational meaning. Unless we watch a documentary, But I vastly prefer my books.”

“It’s not that bad Victoria…but I’ve got nothing better to do, and I like watching TV. So, I’ll stay as well.” Felipe joined in.

Oscar just yawned and stayed silent, but didn’t move. He was following his twin.

“Very well. Now, where is that damn remote...” Imelda trailed off, digging among the sofa cushions until she found the offending hunk of plastic.

They ended up watching TV for more than an hour, cycling from terrible sitcoms, to cartoons, to historical programmes where they interviewed the longest remembered people. Miguel seemed fascinated by them all, and insisted they watch each one.

When they got to an old-fashioned gangster movie about the old West, he brought up several of his own favourite movies with the hope he could one day share them with them all. Imelda promised him she’d think about it and look it up. She had no idea if the land of the dead had movie rental shops.

In the end, she was left alone with just Miguel and Dante, and that damn guitar, as everyone else trooped off to bed as the evening wore on.

Cycling back around to the main channels, as they’d had missed a few, she casually flipped onto the main news channel, eager to see what was going on. The news was one of the few things she actively kept up with. The land of the dead never had much going on, but when something did go down, it was interesting to follow.

She immediately regretted her move.

The anchors were talking about them- specifically how they had taken down Ernesto De la Cruz the previous day. They then played footage of his final sunrise spectacular, before all their pictures came up, including Miguel’s, among speculation that he hadn’t gotten home as officials hadn’t announced where he was.

Sensing her grandson abruptly stiffen beside her, Imelda cursed lightly and hurriedly switched off the TV. According to the clock on the wall, it was almost 10. She needed to send Miguel to bed before it got any later.

“Come on Miguel. Bed time. Just ignore the news. We don’t have time for that now.” She said gently and got up, as did Dante.

It took Miguel a few moments to pull himself together, before he nodded and hurriedly got up as well, picking up Ernesto’s guitar from the floor.

“You’re right Mama Imelda. I’m just a bit affected by that news story- they seemed to be giving us a lot of attention. Are you sure it’s okay to show me the city tomorrow? People might recognize us.” He said sombrely as they left the room.

She hesitated before they mounted the stairs.

“I share your concerns…but we do have to go out, to visit the D.O.D and see Don Samaniego. It’s to help Héctor- to see if your condition is linked to his. And we can’t fly back that easily. Our house is somewhat far from the Department, and I don’t want Pepita to get too tired flying back and forth. It’s easier to just stay in the centre.” She said shakily.

“Mama Imelda…I wish we could just stay here. Far away from everyone and everything else…I know I just arrived, but I-I love this place. And I love Mi familia so much.” Miguel confessed.

“I know Miguel. We all love you too. So much. And I share your feelings- I just want to stay in and have a quiet time. But we have to help Héctor.” She said.

“We do. More than anything, I want him back. He- he did so much for me. I want to do as much as I can for him, so I can play music again with him someday.” He stated with steadfast determination and touched his new guitar gingerly. Then he jumped up with a crafty look in his eyes.

Imelda immediately knew that he was planning something. But before she could comment on her suspicion, Miguel spoke up excitedly.

“Can I say goodnight to Papa Héctor quickly? And maybe play some music to him?” He whispered.

Imelda frowned. So _that_ was his plan.

“You can say goodnight to him. But don’t play any music. You might stress him- and everyone else is asleep. It would be unfair to them.” She lectured him gently.

“I-I’ll be quiet. And Héctor might remember! If I play “Remember Me”- the version he taught me.” Miguel justified his plan, looking more determined than ever.

“Miguel- “She began.

“I know I’m being childish and immature and stubborn. Like I was when I ran off on Dios Los Muertos- but I’m just so sick and tired of feeling useless and blaming myself all the time. If I can help Héctor, I want to try- maybe there is an easy solution to all this?” He said, giving her a desperate look.

“It’s late and you’re- we’re all too tired for this right now. Please, Miguel, it isn’t the time.” She chided him.

“Can I just try Mama Imelda? Please” He pleaded, stubbornly refusing to back down.

“No.” She said firmly, feeling more like a mother than ever. “Just say goodnight to him and then go to bed.”

Miguel’s face fell, but he nodded slowly and went up with her.

Entering her bedroom, he walked up to her bed and sat on the edge of it, gazing at Héctor with empty eyes. It reminded her of Coco’s expression and she momentarily looked away and bit her lip before forcing her gaze back.

Her husband was still fast asleep, frowning as he twitched.

Miguel reached out and patted his chest lightly, before quickly retracting his arm after Héctor didn’t respond to his touch and stir at all.

“He hasn’t moved since you came back this morning?” He asked, voice trembling.

“Not to my knowledge. He hasn’t shifted position at all.” She said.

“He looks so sad…seeing him like this is- it’s hell. It’s all my fault. But I can…” Miguel trailed off, before taking a deep breath and reaching for Ernesto’s guitar.

“Miguel!” Imelda cried out, shakily stepping forward. She couldn’t believe he was doing this.

“I’m sorry Mama Imelda.” He whispered and began strumming the first few chords of “Remember me.”

He played it well. Too well.

 _Just_ like he had.

For a moment, she was back in the past, watching Héctor play it to Coco as she clapped and eagerly cheered him on.

_“Remember me, although I have to say goodbye.”_

_“Remember me. Don’t let it make you cry.”_

Miguel sang it with a sob, sad and distraught.

She came to herself, instantly rushing forward putting a gentle hand on Ernesto’s guitar to stop him.

Miguel was crying. Very hard.

Of course, he would. She was so stupid- getting carried away when she should be looking after his welfare.

Wincing and crying as well, she pulled him into her arms and shushed him.

Miguel started blubbering apologies for his actions, and she put a finger to his mouth and quietened him.

But before she could speak, someone else did.

“What’s wrong?! Has something happened?” A bleary voice made them both jump out of their skin.

Imelda looked up, as did Miguel.

The boy gasped.

Héctor was awake again, staring at them both with a beatific smile, clear love in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?
> 
> I hope you like cliffhangers!!


	7. The Sole Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy, managed to update on time.
> 
> This chapter was hard to write, I felt that I struggled to get everyones emotions right. In my opinion, emotional tearjerkers are always the hardest to get correct. 
> 
> But I struggled through it and got there in the end! So enjoy!
> 
> Hopefully the POV change is a delightful surprise.

The music guided him through the haze of his dreams…

Héctor woke up quietly, but kept his eyes closed, listening intently to the young boy sing.

He instinctively knew what the song was; _Remember me_. He’d written it after all…

For his beloved Coco…

But who was playing it? He hadn’t taught the real melody to just anyone. Ernesto had insisted they sing a more upbeat version of it in their concerts, but he personally preferred the lullaby he’d sing to Coco.

So, who-

Ah. _Him._

His newest family member.

Dearest Miguel.

Héctor didn’t quite know how Miguel had joined their familia.

His memories didn’t feel real.

Miguel had just appeared in his life one day, already as close and present to him as his own dear Coco.

He was a Rivera though, through and through. His musical acumen showed that.

_You adopted him._ His mind helpfully supplied.

Ah. That was it. But he was sure that Miguel was related to him by blood- so maybe he was a distant cousin?

Whatever. He was still his son, and he was still his Papa.

Then he heard crying, and opened his eyes slightly.

His fatherly instincts were kicking in.

His son was crying- sobbing through his singing.

Then he stopped playing altogether, and began crying harder.

Someone was whispering comforts to him-

Imelda!

His Imelda!

She was crying as well-

They were both so sad.

He _had_ to comfort them.

Getting up, he struggled as his body felt oddly heavy. Like he’d been asleep for a long time…

Finally sitting up straight, he blinked through his blurry vision until his eyes settled on a most troubling sight.

His crying wife and son.

His Imelda…she was so beautiful. And poor Miguel looked so unwell…

“What’s wrong?! Has something happened?” He called out, doing his best to not slur his words.

Both of his loved ones jumped slightly, and looked at him with teary, but very surprised expressions.

He beamed at them with a wide grin, trying to show them just how much he loved them.

“What’s wrong mijo?” He said.

“Papa Héctor!” Miguel yelled his name and threw his guitar on the bed, hurtling forward and hugging him tightly.

“Oof. Woah there mijo. Don’t knock me over.” He joked lightly and immediately hugged his son back.

“Y-yeah. Sorry.” Miguel mumbled and nuzzled his chest, still sobbing quietly.

“No need to apologise.” He assured him, looking up at Imelda. She seemed strangely hesitant.

“Imelda, I take it Coco is asleep?” He asked tenderly.

Imelda swallowed and stared at him with wide eyes.

Miguel stiffened in his arms, but he quickly relaxed after he started patting his back and assuring him that everything was okay.

Imelda blinked and pulled herself together, drying her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Yes. She is.” She said quickly. “She wanted me to tell you that she loves you. But she was just so tired after school today- she fell asleep as soon as she got home.”

“That’s understandable. I wish I could’ve sung to her…. good thing Miguel is here to sing to me to even the score. Do you want to finish your song, mijo?” He said.

“Are you sure?” Miguel asked.

“Yes. Go ahead. I did teach it to you after all.” He said.

“R-right.” Miguel mumbled, and picked up his guitar.

To Héctor’s delight, it looked just like his own guitar. Except it was newer and brighter. Obviously, Miguel was following in his footsteps. He loved it

Although, he wondered where his own guitar was. Where had he left it…

Miguel distracted him by gently strumming, but didn’t play. For some reason, he was still holding back.

“Are you okay, mijo?” He asked, feeling very concerned for his son.

Miguel just nodded minutely and gripped his guitar tighter. He was shaking.

“Do you want me to sing with you?” He said gently.

Miguel startled. Then smiled sadly and nodded again, more spirited than before.

His eyes were very wet.

He had to resist the urge to hug him again, settling for just smiling brightly at him. He was quite tired and woozy, but would do his best to stay awake for his son.

“Ummm…3-2-1.” Miguel counted down.

They both opened their mouths and…sang in perfect unison. Although his voice was a fair bit raspier than Miguel’s, he still did his best to accompany him.

_“Remember me. Though I have to say goodbye.”_

_“Remember me. Don't let it make you cry.”_

Miguel’s voice wobbled on the final word and he hiccupped, but he kept singing after Héctor inched forward and gently touched his arm.

He let go of it after a brief squeeze.

Miguel smiled at this and took a deep breath, singing with renewed strength.

_“For even if I'm far away I hold you in my heart.”_

_“I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart.”_

Looking up, Héctor saw Imelda crying deeply and wiping her eyes furtively with her now damp handkerchief.

Smiling at her, he waved his right hand to get her attention, then patted the space next to him when she looked up.

She pursed her lips and then smiled, before scooting over and leaning against him.

Just before they reached the last verse, he offered her his hand and she took it.

Then to his amazement, she joined in. Her voice was just as beautiful as ever.

_“Remember me_

_Though I have to travel far_

_Remember me_

_Each time you hear a sad guitar_

_Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be_

_Until you're in my arms again_

_Remember me.”_

Miguel finished it off by strumming the final chords gently, his movements fluid and steady.

“Amazing Mijo! You sang it perfectly! I need to teach you more songs.” Héctor said, then yawned.

Was it just him, or was he suddenly weirdly tired?

“I’m looking forward to it Papa Héctor.” Miguel said, looking more cheerful than before.

“You need to start writing your own music…and I need to find my guitar.” Héctor mumbled.

Miguel sighed, then laughed.

“I’ll find it for you.” He said simply.

Héctor laughed then yawned once more, falling back onto the pillows.

He just had to rest…

But before he could drift off, a brilliant idea hit him. One that roused him enough to sit up.

“Hey Imelda, why doesn’t Miguel spend the night here?” He ventured. “It’s obvious that he hasn’t been sleeping well on his own.”

“Huh?” Imelda said.

She’d been staring into nothingness with an odd frown on her face, letting him and Miguel speak than joining in.

“I mean- I think we should ask Miguel what he wants.” She said quickly. “Our bed isn’t that big. Imbecile.”

Héctor looked at Miguel expectantly, who smiled but shook his head.

“I think I’ll be okay. I have Dante! And Mama Imelda is right Papa Héctor- your bed is too small.” He said.

Héctor chuckled.

“Yeah…Dante is that street dog, right?” He said, trying to remember the mutt.

“Yeah. Mama Imelda let me keep him. He’s a Xolo. Don’t worry, I’m looking after him.” Miguel assured him quickly.

Imelda glanced at him with wry amusement.

“Good boy.” She said. “Now, it’s late and we have a busy day tomorrow. We all have to get to bed.”

“Busy day?” Héctor questioned.

Imelda rolled her eyes.

“We have a shop to run. And so many other things…every day is a busy day.” She said, trailing off for a moment before snorting derisively.

“Ah. Right. I forget.” He said sheepishly.

Truth be told, he had forgotten. Weren’t Imelda’s brothers the shoemakers? His head felt strange.

“You forgot, because you never work a proper shift. You’re always off with your guitar while I do all the real work and cook dinner.” She sniped.

“Hey! I make good music. And people pay to hear it.” Héctor defended himself, but smiled at her.

He loved quarrelling with her. She was so harsh and stern, but hid a far gentler side. One she showed to very few people…

A low chuckle made them both look at Miguel, who’d gotten up and was standing by a wagging dog that could only be Dante.

“Good night both of you.” He said. “I need to sleep.”

“Good night Miguel. Remember, if you have a nightmare, come here and I’ll comfort you.” She said.

Héctor raised an eyebrow. He’d had no idea that Miguel had had nightmares. How could he go to sleep when his son was suffering so much!?

“You had nightmares!? How come I didn’t know?” He said, almost snapping.

_Why is my son- I feel so angry about it! I should’ve known!_ He thought.

Miguel flinched at his tone, but managed to stay calm.

“It’s nothing Papa Héctor. Really- I’m okay.” He said

“It’s- It’s not okay. You’re my _child_. I should be helping you- not _lying_ here uselessly.” He said, struggling against his strange tiredness.

“Héctor!” Imelda implored him.

“Papa Héctor, please calm down- I’ll be all right. I’ll come here if I have a nightmare. You need to rest. Think about Coco.” Miguel said, sounding torn.

Héctor took a deep breath and _focused._

“You’re right. I need to focus on my children…mi familia.” He said and nodded. “Thank you, Miguel.”

“I’ll see you soon Papa Héctor.” Miguel said, voice wobbling.

“Good night Miguel.” Héctor said genuinely. “I love you and I’m here for you.”

“I know.” Miguel said, sounding heartbroken, but quickly rallied. “I love you as well Papa Héctor. I’ll do anything to prove it.” He finished fiercely.

“You sound just like Imelda. You don’t need to prove it, silly.” Héctor assured him.

“Enough chatting. We have an early day. Miguel, go to bed.” Imelda chided their son.

“Right- sorry. Come on Dante.” Miguel said and hurried out, taking his guitar with him.

“And you go to sleep as well Imbecile.” Imelda said exasperatedly, and got up to presumably undress.

Héctor heeded her with another yawn and lay back, finally letting tiredness overcome him

His felt much more relaxed.

His son was okay…

He just had to wait for Imelda…

* * *

As soon as Héctor heard music again, he knew that he was dreaming.

For one, the tune was all distorted and muffled. Meaning that it was coming from a radio.

It was traditional folk music; all soft guitars and low voices.

Opening his eyes, he stilled. He was in an odd place.

Sitting at a curved table, opposite a dark shadowy figure who chuckled deeply when he saw him staring. The stranger was shuffling a deck of cards.

Pitch darkness surrounded them.

He couldn’t see a radio or a jukebox or anything- so what was making the music?

He sighed and leaned forward, trying to decompress.

The stranger cocked their head at his silence. They wore a wide brim hat that overshadowed their face, completely hiding their expression.

“Well?” They said.

“What?” He answered, utterly confused as to what they wanted.

They chuckled again.

“You can call me Senor X.” Th- _X_ introduced himself.

“I’m Senor Rivera. Héctor, Rivera.” He said politely.

Even if this was just a dream, he wouldn’t be rude to anyone unless they were rude to him first.

“I know.” X said and shrugged, shuffling his cards again. “You’re quite a famous musician.”

“I wouldn’t say that…. I’ve only written a few songs, and I don’t play them all that much.” He said.

“Do you play?” X said, gesturing to his cards. Obviously, he didn’t mean music.

“Not really. That’s more Ernesto’s thing. Actually, he wants us to go on longer tours and play in bigger places- like Mexico City. He says he wants my songs to reach the “audience they deserve”.” Héctor said slowly.

He frowned. Why was he divulging his innermost opinions to a complete stranger?

This was a dream…

“Really?” X said.

“Yeah. I don’t agree. I write my music for my wife and child- children.” He corrected himself, grimacing at the slip up. “I want to share it with them, and them alone. No one else. I’m going to tell Ernesto when we next go on tour- that I’m quitting our partnership and staying at home. Permanently. I’d do it now, but I already promised him that I’d go and he’s already booked everything. I’d feel bad if I let him down.” He added quickly.

X bowed his head sombrely. He seemed sad for some reason.

He paused and shuffled the cards quicker, as if debating with himself, then raised his head and looked directly into his eyes.

Despite the shadows covering Senor X’s face, Héctor could tell that he was smiling.

Then he saw something- a flash of green-

Just as soon as it’d appeared, it was gone.

X coughed.

“Do you want me to teach you how to play?” He offered. “Poker?”

“Okay.” Héctor agreed, hoping that he would wake up soon. This dream was beginning to make him uncomfortable. Mainly because of X’s strange behaviour and invasive questions.

X chuckled and started shuffling the cards anew.

Héctor sighed and then frowned. The music was getting on his nerves.

“I’m sorry to ask…but can we change the music? It’s beginning to drag.” He requested.

X stopped.

“Why do you feel it’s a drag?” He asked, sounding perfectly curious.

Héctor thought for a moment, musing deeply on why it bothered him.

“It sounds fake. Artificial. I prefer live music- but I know we can’t get it, so you can just change it to something cheerier so I can at least focus on the tune. I like analysing songs and picking out the beats-how the musicians play. I can picture it in my head.” He explained.

“Easy.” X stated, raising his right hand and clicking his fingers.

Immediately, the music changed- becoming a much happier _live_ song.

Héctor jumped, almost falling out of his chair. X laughed heartily at him, increasing in tempo when he glared at him in response.

It sounded like the musicians playing were right next to them.

“Anything else?” X asked gently. “Can I get you a drink? Or something to eat?”

Héctor blinked. It didn’t sound like a mocking offer.

“I don’t drink alcohol around my family. In fact, I don’t drink much at all.” He said.

“This is a dream. They aren’t around.” X stated flatly.

“Still- I don’t feel comfortable.” Héctor rallied.

“I can get you something non-alcoholic?” X suggested wryly.

_Oh. That should’ve been obvious._ Héctor thought, chastising himself.

X cocked his head.

Héctor had the feeling that he was grinning devilishly at him.

“Then, can I please get a glass of water?” He asked.

“You really want something so boring?” X said, sounding disappointed. “I can understand the non-alcohol part- but I can offer you any drink known to man, and you settle on _water_ of all things.”

“Well, I’m not that exciting of a person. Can I please have some water?” He repeated, shrugging off the X’s bizarre statement.

“Ahahaha. Trust me, Senor Rivera, you are a _fascinating_ person. But I apologise for complaining. I’ll adhere to your request.” X said and clicked his fingers again.

Héctor flinched as a glass of water materialized right in front of him. X laughed at him again.

“Hey! Warn me before you do that!” He complained.

“Right. Do you want anything to eat?” X said, waving his hand dismissively.

“No thank you. Let’s get started. The sooner I finish this strange dream, the sooner I can wake up and be with my family.” Héctor said slowly.

X stilled and sighed.

“Senor- _Héctor_ …. I’m afraid that you’ll be here for a while. It’s why I offered you food- we’re going to be together for many hours.” He revealed.

_Whatever. I just want to get this over with. Long dream, or no long dream. It’s too bizarre for me._ He thought.

“Just start our Poker lesson. Please. It’s not like I have anything else to do.” Héctor said, rolling his eyes.

X just smiled sadly at him in response, and began dealing the cards.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, another cliffy...
> 
> :PPPPPPPP
> 
> Remember that comments make me smile!!!111


	8. Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: discussion of child death and dead bodies. In my opinion, the fic earns its T rating here. Nothing too graphic, but some sensitive themes. 
> 
> I know this is one day late, but it was very tough to write, and it’s extra-long, so I’m not apologising. Topkek.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

 

* * *

It- his dream was _cold._ Too cold.

Miguel came to slowly, blinking through his tiredness as his gaze adjusted to yet another living dream.

As soon as he saw the stone tiled room he was in, filled with several metal slabs covered in large black bags, he started shaking.

He knew where he was-

A _morgue_.

He was connected to his body, and that was the one logical place he could be.

Getting up, he flinched and bit his tongue to stop himself from screaming, when he saw a small hand poking out from the bag on the nearest slab.

Averting his eyes, he looked around, desperate trying to rein himself in.

Aside from the slabs, there were several sinks, and long metal cabinets with little doors lined the walls.

Guessing that they probably contained more bodies, he looked at the floor. Only to pale when he saw a drain surrounded by some dry dark-brown- _red_ substance.

He stifled another scream and backpedalled away, hiding in the farthest corner of the room and covering his face with his hands.

 _Wake up. Wake up. Wake up._ He repeated to himself.

Then the morgue door opened-

Miguel looked up, unable to help himself.

His parents and a man in a white coat entered the room, the latter shutting the door behind them.

His father and mother were both sobbing. And his father was supporting his mother with his whole body as she seemed to be on the verge of collapse.

 _No. No. No. No. I don’t want to see this._ He said, resisting the urge to cry.

If they heard him- as Rosa had before- it would be bad. Very bad.

He would hurt them. Make them think they were being haunted, or they were going insane, or something worse. He couldn’t hurt them.

He had to wake up and get to Imelda-

“I’m sorry that we have to go through this. But it is due procedure I’m afraid. Just so that we have it on record that you’re sure the body is your son. I know your niece already said it was him, but we need a proper ID. And thank you for coming at the first opportunity. I know it’s late.” The man said soothingly, coming right up to the slab with the hand poking out. He noticed it and hurriedly stuffed it in, using his body to shield his parents from witnessing the careless act.

“I understand. Just give me a moment.” His father muttered, stopping about a meter away from the doctor with his mother.

“Luisa…you can still go home.” He whispered to her.

“N-no. I have to be sure. Even if Rosa…I have to be _sure.”_ She quivered.

“But the baby…the shock might- “His father started.

“It won’t.” His mother silenced him with a steely gaze.

His father turned back to the surgeon and nodded, who smiled wanly and slowly opened the bag.

Miguel stiffened and tried to look away when _it_ was finally revealed, but his mother’s heartrending wail made him snap to attention to look at her reaction.

She had fallen to her knees, clutching her stomach while tears streamed from her eyes and she emitted desperate moans. Next to her, his father kneeled and hugged her desperately. But he was crying desperately as well, and looked on the verge of having a breakdown.

He got up and stumbled towards them, reacting to his instincts to comfort then. Thankfully, no one heard him move.

Unfortunately, because he wasn’t looking at where he was going, he made the mistake of tripping. He ended up falling forward, desperately grabbing at the nearest object to steady himself.

Which turned out to be the slab with his corpse on it. And as he slumped across it, he found himself staring directly into his dead face.

Thankfully, his-the corpses eyes were shut. But he- it looked almost normal.

He hadn’t been dead for all that long, he realised. So, his body hadn’t started rotting yet.

It seemed…peaceful. Serenely comatose rather than dead.

Morbid curiosity taking him over, he stood up and unconsciously trailed his eyes down his body.

He was naked, which at first embarrassed him, until he noticed the large scar on his chest. It was Y-shaped, and covered his entire torso.

Embarrassment quickly turned to horror, and he reeled backwards, falling on his behind as he realised what the scar meant.

Someone had cut him open….and stitched him back together afterwards.

Performed an _autopsy_ on him.

Hyperventilating rapidly, he bit his right hand and barely managed to stifle a ragged groan.

The doctor looked around, eyes narrowing as he tried to find the source of the noise. Then he shrugged and mumbled something about “mice”, before looking away.

More fortunately, his parents didn’t seem to have noticed as they were still busy grieving him.

Miguel released a slow, shaky breath, trying to do his best to calm down.

The only thing that had kept him from screaming, was sheer shock and consideration. But he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for much longer- if anything else horrific happened, he would let loose. It would all come tumbling out- his fears and pent-up emotions.

Ruminating on this, he started tearing up and buried his face in his hands again.

 _Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Please-_ He thought desperately, only to be cut off by his mother suddenly yelling.

“If only Elena had supported his love for music! We wouldn’t be here! Our son would still be alive!” She declared loudly.

Her voice cut through his panic and shook him to his very core.

He remembered Héctor playing _Remember me_ with him. How he had been so caring…

How could he have forgotten…?

He opened his eyes and stared at his parents in shock.

Despite her condition, his mother was standing up on her own, looking at his body with a bleak, but determined gaze. She was clutching her belly very tightly. The knuckles of her hands were white with effort.

“Luisa…it’s too soon.” His father said, speech failing him.

“I want it to end Enrique. All of it. The pain and the tears and the fear. Your mother went too far when she destroyed his guitar.” She ranted, almost collapsing again.

“Shh, my dear…” His father said and hugged her, supporting her and rubbing her back.

Migurl watched them with great sadness, but stayed back.

His mother was giving him hope. She was so…strong.

After a few minutes, his mother pulled herself together and nodded to his father that she okay and could stand up on her own. They both then turned to face the doctor, who had a sombre expression on.

“My condolences. I know I already offered them earlier, but please accept them again. The death of a child…I can’t even begin to imagine it. If anything happened to mi hijos…” The doctor trailed off sadly.

“Thank you…Is there anything else you need us to do?” His father said slowly.

“I just need to tell you something…it’s complicated. I know you wish to bury your son and have a funeral, but I’m afraid that there is an issue with releasing his body.” The doctor said, wincing as he delivered the news.

“What!?” His mother stated. “How can there be an issue?”

“Senora Rivera…it has to do with where your son was found, and the condition of his body. We can wait, or I can tell you about it now- if you’re ready.” The doctor said, clearly hesitating.

Miguel just stared blankly, trying to process what he was hearing.

His father looked at his mother, who nodded her assent.

“Tell us.” He said seriously.

“You probably already know that he was found in Ernesto De La Cruz’s’ memorial, covered in marigold petals and holding De la Cruz’s guitar. Due to the notoriety of the location, and the fact De la Cruz had no known family when he passed away, it’s been a hassle to keep it open for investigation, but we’re doing our best.” The doctor explained carefully.

“The thing is…we can find no evidence that anybody but your son was inside. No fingerprints, or footprints, or anything. As for his body, we…well, we haven’t been able to find a cause of death yet. In my preliminary examination, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary; no marks and such that would indicate how Miguel died, and his organs are all fine. It might be a case of SDS-Sudden Death Syndrome.” He added.

His parents both started at him with wide eyes, completely dumbfounded by what he had just told them.

His father opened his mouth, then closed it.

“We think that it was a heart attack of some sort, because there are no signs of foul play. We think that your son broke into De la Cruz’s monument by himself, by smashing a window during the fireworks. People only noticed it was broken after the display finished. Then- he somehow hid from the grave keeper when he came in to investigate. I can only estimate that your son died after he left.” The doctor continued.

His father finally managed to pull himself together.

“So, you have to do more work?” He uttered; his voice strangled.

“Yes. But don’t worry, we don’t suspect you for his death. Your familia had alibis for the whole night. You were all searching for Miguel and were seen by different people at different times during the Dios Los Muertos celebrations. And if you were in the graveyard- you were always far away from De la Cruz’s monument.” The doctor assured them.

“You think I killed my own son? My baby?” His father abruptly snapped, angry sadness seeping into voice, making his mother jump.

“Please Senor Rivera. We _have_ to do an assessment. In most cases of sudden deaths- _especially_ children, the family is usually responsible. Be glad that we were able to clear you all so quickly.” The doctor pleaded.

His father crumpled and started crying again. This time his mother stepped up and was the one comforting _him_.

“Thank you, doctor. Did he…. did Miguel have anything on his body?” She asked.

“Yes. One object; a picture of a woman and a little girl, with De la Cruz’s guitar and an unknown man. Do you know them?” The doctor said gently.

“Yes. They’re our Mama Imelda and Mama Coco, with our unknown Papa. It came from our offrenda…. Miguel took it before he ran away. He’d accidentally broken it- and recognised the guitar in it. It was Ernesto De la Cruz’s. So, he thought that he was our relative. But that’s impossible…” His mother trailed off.

“Well- “The doctor started and then stopped, before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I’m well aware of all this- I read your interview transcripts. But what Miguel thought… it’s not quite _impossible_. Just more extremely unlikely. It’s true that Ernesto had no documented children, or any family really. But you have a logged male relative in our police records.”

His parents stared again, more dumbfounded than before.

His father blinked and then nodded.

“Tell us about him. _Please.”_ He pleaded.

His mother turned to him.

“Enrique…are you…” She said.

“I agree with you Luisa. It’s time to move on. If my mother disagrees, I’ll stand up for you. We’ll honour Miguel’s wishes; if he wanted to find out who his great-great-great-grandfather was…we’ll do it for him.” He said seriously.

His mother quivered and smiled gratefully, then turned to the doctor and nodded as well.

“Tell us about him.” His father repeated.

“Well…to be honest, I checked before coming. I was curious about Miguel’s hypothesis- if it could explain his death. I’m so sorry that I broke protocol- “The doctor mumbled.

“It’s okay. We won’t tell anyone. Just…tell us.” His father assured him.

The doctor blinked, then smiled gently.

“Your great-great-grandfather was called Héctor Rivera. He was born- or rather _left,_ here in Santa Cecilia in 1900, and was a local musician. He met and married Imelda Rivera- they had the same last name, but as far as we can tell they were directly unrelated- and had a child with her. He frequently went on tour with to earn money for his familia, but disappeared in Mexico City in December 1921, just before Christmas. No trace of him has ever been found. Although due to the sheer amount of time that has passed, he is most certainly deceased.” The doctor said slowly.

His father swallowed and sighed.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” He asked.

“No. Your great-great-grandmother destroyed them all as soon as she heard Héctor had disappeared. She thought that he’d left her for some floozy- that’s what I can gather from the original police report anyway. It’s very old and faded, but I could make out that it was, surprisingly enough, _Ernesto De la Cruz_ that told her that. She refused to say anything else about him after that. However- we do have a very scant police sketch. It was created from eyewitness accounts- from people who knew Héctor from the orphanage he grew up in, and his few friends in Santa Cecilia. I could…see if I could get you a copy? It’s not very good in my opinion, but it’s better than nothing.” The doctor said.

“Thank you. I think…I’d like one. As for Ernesto…we will have to do more research ourselves. Now, I have to go see the rest of my familia and get my wife to bed.” His father said.

“Yes…I need to sleep…for the baby’s sake.” His mother agreed.

“Let me show you out.” The doctor offered and escorted them from the room.

As he shut the door, Miguel was plunged into darkness.

He didn’t really notice. He was so numbed and horrified by what he’d just seen, that he let it take him.

The rest of his night was dreamless.

* * *

He still felt odd and numb when Tia Victoria woke him up very early the next morning.

Putting on the clothes from the day before as they weren’t that dirty, he went down for breakfast and greeted his family with a sullen good morning. Everyone looked worried at his tone, but didn’t press him as they served him toast and eggs that Rosita had made.

He only picked at them, barely eating a single bite of the delicious smelling food.

Even Dante couldn’t cheer him up. The Alebrije spent the entire time curled at his feet, eyeing him mournfully and whining lowly to catch his attention.

It was only when Imelda came down and greeted him by fondly calling his name, that he finally managed to come back to reality.

“Héctor?” He asked hopefully.

“No. Still asleep.” Imelda said wearily.

He went back to eating his breakfast with a low frown, vaguely aware of Rosita informing Imelda of his “worrying behaviour”.

Imelda soon sat down next to him, and waited for Rosita to serve her.

“Did you sleep well Miguel?” She asked quietly. “You didn’t come to my room…Any dreams?”

Miguel took a deep breath, hesitating to tell her, but released it and hunched down over his plate.

“I slept soundly all night. But I…I did have another dream. I’ll tell you about it later.” He mumbled, managing to keep his voice together.

“Okay…now, we’ll head out right after breakfast. It’s just coming up to eight.” She said, gesturing to a clock above the doorway that he hadn’t noticed earlier.

Miguel was used to waking up early, as in life he’d woken up at around seven every day to help his family set up shop. So, he didn’t complain and nodded brusquely.

Thankfully, Rosita finally served Imelda and she got busy eating, giving him some space to think.

The whole world didn’t feel real. Unlike last night, when he’d been somewhat content, he felt like he was in a place he didn’t belong. He missed the living world.

Witnessing his parents break down and then mourn his dead body, felt like someone had dumped a cold bucket of water on him. He’d been lying to himself, about how well he was feeling and about his ability and strength to keep himself going.

He wasn’t strong. Just weak. And guilty.

And…it was hard to accept the truth.

That he was never going to go home and see his family- his living family again, or see his sister grow up.

Well, he would one day. Far in the future, when they died themselves and finally joined him in the afterlife.

But he didn’t cry upon realising this, just sighed wistfully over his cooling, barely touched food. He felt more defeated than sad. His existence was a hollow, useless one.

He was just a burden that would drag them all down…

The rest of the meal passed by in terse silence. Imelda stole a concerned glance at him every now and then, but she was too busy eating and instructing her family on what to do while she was away, to really comfort him.

Only Rosita broke the ice, just as he finally forced himself to eat some toast.

“Oh. Miguel, I almost forgot, but I’m going to finish fixing your hoodie today. The sleeve was torn badly, but I’ve almost fixed it up. Although- “She started.

“The photo is gone, isn’t it?” He asked curtly, cutting across her.

Rosita blinked at his rudeness, then frowned. She seemed dazed and surprised and worried. Three conflicting emotions in one expression.

“It was. I’m so sorry. I must’ve dropped it when I was riding Pepita.” She apologised sadly.

Miguel flinched. She shouldn’t be blaming herself-

He sighed again and did his best to give her an apologetic smile. But it came out more like an ugly grimace.

“No. It’s not your fault. Not at all. Tia Rosita, it’s back in the living world.” He revealed, trying not to say too much.

He didn’t want to dwell on his dream…

“Oh. Is it- “She mumbled, suddenly freezing and stopping completely.

Miguel looked up.

Imelda was shaking her head at her daughter-in-law, signalling her to not press him.

 _They’re so caring. I really don’t deserve all this._ He thought bleakly, looking away and putting down his utensils. And he hadn’t eaten much of the delicious food they’d worked so hard to prepare. It made him feel even worse.

“Ready, Miguel?” Imelda suddenly said.

Blinking, Miguel looked up and stared at her. She’d gotten up and was smiling at him gently, ready to head out and face the day. While he wasn’t.

“Yes. Let’s go.” He lied, getting up abruptly and heading for the door before she could say anything. He didn’t want to even look at her. He didn’t deserve her caring smile.

“Okay.” She said minutely and hurried after him.

Opening the front door, he quickly went outside and shut it behind him.

Sighing in the dim air, he put his hands in his pockets and kicked a stone around. Wanting to mindlessly occupy himself than confront the present.

Imelda opened the door a moment later and let Dante out, who immediately ran up to him and pawed at him longingly.

Miguel took a step back and snapped at the Xolo when he tried to come closer.

Dante relented and settled for sitting next to him with a droopy expression, giving Imelda a long look when she came to join them.

“I’ll whistle for Pepita in a moment. Oscar and Felipe are just bringing Héctor out.” She said.

“Okay.” He whispered, not looking up and still kicking the stone.

“Miguel, look at me.” She said with gentle sternness.

Miguel took a deep breath and forced himself to turn to her.

Imelda frowned at him. She seemed both exasperated and worried.

“You don’t have to tell me anything about your dream. But please…please, if you can help it, don’t clam up like that. We all love you and we want to help you. So, let us.” She implored him.

“Mama Imelda…I’m so sorry.” He said, his resolve crumbling. “I just…I wanna go home.” He finished with a low sob.

“Hey, hey. I know you do.” She said and hugged him.

“But….” She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

Breathing in and out, she finally mustered the courage to tell him.

“But you can’t Miguel. You can’t go back-” She said.

“I know! I know!” He retorted loudly, immediately crying harder when she stilled at his anger.

“I’m just so sick and tired of everything! Of being useless! And crying! And everyone comforting me when I don’t deserve it! I want to go back…I’m so confused.” He confessed quickly.

“Miguel…I understand. You feel frustrated with yourself, and everything, and everyone else. I felt the same when I died. Only my parents were here to greet me- they’d died when I was very young, when Coco was a toddler, so she never got to meet them- but I didn’t care, I wanted to go back, to be with her. It hurt so much. For a long time, it hurt. I felt like I’d never be able to move on. I even turned Héctor away again and again, thinking that it would help...but it only made me feel worse.” She countered; her voice full of pain.

He could only pitifully sniff at her words and hug her tighter, taking comfort in her admission.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how you felt. Being without your familia…without Mama Coco, or your brothers, or anyone- except for your parents, who you hadn’t seen in ages. I have all of you…I feel so bad for complaining, when you went through worse.” He mumbled.

“Don’t say that! It’s not true!” She snapped at him, then sighed and shut her eyes.” We’ll get through this Mijo. All of us. Together. Remember what I said-we’ll save Héctor, solve your condition, and then we can begin to heal. Properly heal, I mean. Then we’ll live our lives as best we can. You’ll never be alone Mijo.” She said fiercely.

Miguel squeezed his eyes shut and tried to believe in her, and what she was saying. But after his dream last night, he just felt so lost and broken.

He remembered his mother and father and how they had broken down over his body…

He took a deep breath and buried his face in Mama Imelda’s chest, remembering what they had done next.

They’d vowed to end the music ban and to find out about Héctor for themselves.

They loved him so much that they were fighting for his wishes….

If they had the resolve to go on, then he’d have the resolve to go on.

He would do his best to look after his dead famila. Starting with saving Papa Héctor in the afterlife, while his parents saved his memory in the living world.

They would save him together…

At that moment, he felt as if his parents were with him, comforting and supporting him as they’d always done.

They would always be with him. He’d see them on Dios los Muertos and watch his little sister grow up.

It was tragic, but it was all he had. And he wouldn’t let it keep him down. He would always do his best, whatever the circumstances.

He missed them so much…

But he had Mama Imelda now. And Papa Héctor. And his aunts and uncles and grandparents.

Sniffing, Miguel opened his eyes and nodded.

“Thank you, Mama Imelda. I’m sorry for breaking down.” He said.

“Don’t apologise.” She said softly.

He huffed.

“I saw my body in the morgue last night, and my parents came to identify me.” He whispered.

Imelda winced and gave him a worried look.

“They were so sad. And then Mama broke down. I almost screamed. I wanted to wake up and see you. But then Mama called out…she declared that she wanted to end the music ban, so that my little sister could grow up with music. Then…Papa agreed with her and asked the doctor about Héctor. He’s going to try and save his memory.” He continued.

“That’s why you knew the picture had disappeared. It had gone back to them.” Imelda said.

“Yeah…. they also talked about how I died and where I was found. The police are going to have a big investigation.” He said lowly.

“That’s…I’m sorry your parents have to go through more pain. But it’s good your mama wants to end the music ban. I always admired her strength and approved of her. Enrique was lucky to have met her.” Imelda said evenly.

“Y-yeah. And if they research Héctor- maybe they can help him wake up?” He asked hopefully.

Imelda’s’ face fell.

“It depends. They would need to somehow jog Coco’s memory- that’s how being remembered works. She would have to pass on her memories and recollections of her papa to them. And they would need a photo of him. For the Offrenda.” She said.

“Ah.” Miguel muttered, heart plummeting.

“But hey- they’re very stubborn and persistent. I’m sure they’ll find a way to get Coco to remember Héctor, while we focus on helping him down here. This is good news Mijo.” She said brightly.

Miguel smiled at her.

“Where’s Oscar and Felipe?” He asked, moving on.

“Good question. I hope Felipe isn’t messing around.” She said sternly, and turned back the house, just in time for the front door to burst open and Julio, Oscar, and Felipe to come stumbling out, carrying Héctor between them.

“Lo siento, Imelda. Felipe-the imbecile, tried to carry Héctor on his own. I had to run up and help.” Julio apologised.

“My brother sprained his arms. There was lots of yelping” Oscar snarked.

Felipe glared at them.

Imelda rolled her eyes and gently backed out of their hug.

“I’ve known Felipe was an imbecile my whole life. Now, help me get Héctor onto Pepita. Miguel and I should’ve set off by now” She ordered, then looked at the sky and whistled for her Alebrije.

Pepita landed with a roar and stared at the men with her large, unamused, yellow eyes.

The three men heeded Imelda’s demands and bustled towards her. Oscar flinched a little as they loaded Héctor onto her back.

Miguel realised that his uncle was afraid of her.

“Ready Miguel? It’s going to be a long day.” Imelda said suddenly.

He nodded quickly. It _was_ going to be a long day.

They summarily mounted Pepita after Héctor was secure, and set off for the city.

Unfortunately, it was going to be a longer day than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?
> 
> And don’t worry, I know I'm juggling a ton of plot points, but there's gonna be a few interlude chapters exploring what’s going on with Miguel’s living family members when his POV isn’t focused on them!
> 
> And the main song I listened to while writing the main theme was Siames, "Mr Fear".


	9. Miguel meets Luis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE!!!
> 
> Short note: IRL was hell, but I am back!

The City of the Dead was vast. In fact, it was far larger than Miguel had previously thought. He anchored off Pepita’s back as they flew over it, trying to take in as much of it as he could.

It stretched on and on; mounds of houses and plazas and other buildings, all jumbled together in a glorious glittering cacophony of noise and activity. Narrowing his eyes, he could only barely make out the mountains that ringed the far end of the city.

People on trolleys cheered as they flew by, pointing at him and exclaiming loudly. It made him duck closer to Imelda to try to stay out of sight. He hated the attention.

Instead, he focused on watching Héctor and making sure that he didn’t fall off Pepita’s back. Julio and his uncles had securely tied Héctor down with some rope, but privately, Miguel was terrified that his beloved Grandpapa would still fall off somehow.

That he would lose him again…

He swallowed, and looked back, trying to catch sight of his Alebrije.

Thankfully, Dante was still with them. He flapped his wings erratically as he ducked and weaved behind them, panting wildly, his pink tongue lolling, as he struggled to keep pace.

Soon enough, they arrived at the Department of the Dead.

Miguel looked up nervously as Pepita landed at the bottom of the high, imposing stairs that led up the main lobby. The revolving doors were constantly spinning as people bustled into the Department.

A small group of officers ran towards them as they dismounted, looking despondent and nervous. It made him cowardly hide behind Imelda. He didn’t want anyone to see him- to see his face with its horrendous markings.

Imelda glared at them, and they wilted back.

“You okay mijo?” She whispered to him.

“Y-yeah. Lemme just…there’s no point in hiding.” He replied, gathering up the courage to step out from behind her.

As soon as the officers saw him, their nervous expressions turned to abject horror, and they began whispering among themselves. He could hear things like “poor kid” and “it’s a tragedy”.

He turned away, a phantom blush spreading to his hollow cheekbones, and hugged himself. He didn’t want to hear them- their pity and their sadness.

Imelda noticed his discomfort and barked at the officers to help her with Héctor, making them jump to attention and hurry forward.

He was grateful for her distraction. But before he could thank her properly, a faraway figure on the other side of the rather deserted plaza took his attention.

It was a short, hooded figure with something bright around its shoulders. It could only be an Alebrije of some kind…

They suddenly looked up and met his eyes, their faraway gaze boring into his own, and then cocked their head, studying him intently.

Miguel shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t look away. Instead he glared back at them, trying to get them to stop-

“Miguel?” Imelda called.

“Huh?” He said, turning to her.

She was mounting the stairs with the officers, helping them hoist Héctor up.

“Come on, Mijo. Stop staring into nothingness.” She said kindly.

“Right. Sorry. I’m coming.” Miguel said quickly, stealing a quick look back at the figure.

They were gone.

He shook his head, and started bounding up the stairs after the others.

Just as he reached the revolving doors, Dante landed in a panting heap next to Pepita. Obviously, he’d gotten lost and had just now found them. Pepita scowled at him with unamused eyes.

Miguel smiled and waved at him to follow, before going through the doors.

He stopped short as soon he was inside.

It- the Department was different in daytime.

Although it was far less busy than it had been during the day of the dead, there were still plenty of people milling around, crowding up the trolleys and arguing with one another as they jostled to board them.

From their rather smart clothing, he reasoned that they were office workers heading to work.

Of course, they were. He’d forgotten that the Department also doubled as the main tram station.

But that wasn’t what took his attention. Now that the large room was flooded with bright, natural light from the large skylight above it, he could finally see how impressive it was.

The floor was made of marble, and the walls and bridges connecting the department were made of finely polished wood. As for the bannisters, their fine ironwork twisted and turned around one another like snakes, forming patterns of skulls and skeletons and other elaborate beings.

He blinked and hunched his shoulders, running to catch up to Imelda, who was already several meters ahead.

Imelda and the officers were carefully huddling around Héctor, shielding his limp form with their bodies. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be too preoccupied with getting to work to notice them.

 _How could I be so stupid?? I can’t afford to get distracted._ Miguel chastised himself as he carefully made his way through the crowds of people. _But this place…I remember…_

It was hard to think that just a day and a half ago, he’d been running with Héctor though this same lobby, doing his best to get _away_ from his dead familia.

Miguel shivered and quickened his pace. Dante came rushing in just as he caught up to the others, barrelling through people like a bowling ball, knocking him aside as if they were nothing.

People started yelling and cursing at the marauding Alebrije as he barrelled into them, glaring at him with all their might.

Then as Dante finally came hurtling towards him, almost knocking him over in the process, Miguel realised that things had suddenly gotten much quieter.

Looking up, he cowered when he realised most of the skeletons were staring at him. And as he froze in shock, their eyes followed his tense gaze when he looked to Imelda for comfort.

Which made them notice the unconscious Héctor.

And almost immediately, all hell broke loose.

Hundreds of skeletons burst into whispers and shocked gasps, exclaiming his name loudly and pointing at him, while others crowded around Imelda and the officers, badgering them with questions about Héctor and their situation.

Miguel put his hands in the pockets of his pants, clenching them into fists, and looked at his feet, wishing that he had his hoodie and resisting the urge to burst into tears and run away. They were all staring at him like he was some kind of freak, rampant pity and confusion in their eyes.

They had seen his markings…and they were judging him…

“Come on! Move aside and let us through.” Imelda suddenly commanded loudly, making his head ring. “We need to get to the Department!”

To their credit, most of the skeletons hurried aside and let them go on their way. But they still stared. And stared.

“Don’t you have places to get to? Move!” Imelda continued yelling when some people still refused to budge.

Taking courage in her voice, Miguel took a deep breath and followed her closely. He wouldn’t run away. He could do this.

Dante loped closely behind him, giving him an apologetic wince and licking his hands desperately as they walked. Miguel patted his head and whispered assuring words to him. He didn’t blame his Alebrije at all.

It took them a few minutes to get through the crowd and up the stairs to the Department.

Walking through small wooden doors, Miguel heaved a sigh of relief when he saw it was much quieter than the man lobby.

Although the Department workers still stared at him, their gazes were far less pitying and far more accepting. Most of them just nodded at him sadly before going back to work.

Miguel felt comforted by it. He got the impression that they understood him and his predicament, as they dealt with death every single day. They’d probably served hundreds of kids like him.

But he couldn’t dwell on that as he and Imelda and the officers were hurriedly ushered up a lift and then around a corner, to a door with a shiny plaque.

Before he could read it, the door opened and a hunched over old man smiled at them and beckoned them in.

He looked like an owl.

“Come in! Come in! I am so excited to meet you!” The Doctor said breathlessly, his smile widening out into a grin.

Imelda and the officers put Héctor down on a small bed, then stood back and paused to catch their breath.

“Well done everyone!” The doctor said excitedly, then turned to the officers. “You can leave us. I have a lot to discuss with my patients.” He flapped his hands at them until they left, shooing them away like they were children.

Miguel couldn’t help but giggle.

“Right!” The Doctor said jovially, clapping and rubbing his hands together. “Time to begin. We have a lot to discuss. But first…”

He bustled over to Miguel and offered him a hand.

Miguel took it, and was surprised when the Doctor gripped his own hand securely and began shaking it profusely. He was trembling with excitement; Miguel could feel the tremors in his bony fingers.

“Thank you! So many people refuse to shake my hand! But ah- let me introduce myself, I am Doctor Luis Samaniego. I will be conducting your initial assessment this fine morning! And studying your body in conjunction with Senor Héctor’s. Don’t worry, it won’t be at all painful or intrusive.” He- Luis said warmly.

Miguel just stared at him in confusion, as did Dante.

Noticing the Alebrije, Luis finally let go and smiled at him.

“And you must be the brave Dante!” He cheered. “I have a gift for you. Something to keep you busy while I examine your master.”

He bustled away to his desk and retrieved something from a drawer, before returning and waving it around in front of Dante. It looked like a piece of curled up meat.

Dante immediately began drooling and hopping up and down, his eyed keenly following Luis’s outstretched hand.

“It’s a pig’s ear. Dogs love them. I used to give them to my own dogs all the time. I had three of them. All Xolo’s like Dante.” Luis explained, then threw the ear in the air for Dante to catch. “Here!”

Dante deftly caught it and scurried away to hide beneath the Doctor’s desk. A moment later, Miguel heard crunching noises and happy sighs as the Xolo enjoyed his treat.

He turned to Luis and smiled politely. The Doctor seemed like someone he could trust.

“It’s- umm, nice to meet you.” He said.

“Same here. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miguel Rivera. Let me just say, I am so sorry for your situation- and for Senor Héctor. Let’s hope we can wake him up soon.” Luis said brightly.

Despite his apprehension at the doctor’s forwardness, Miguel couldn’t help but like him. He found his enthusiasm endearing, so he relaxed and let his smile become warmer.

“Now that we’re all properly acquainted. Can we please get on with things?” Imelda chided them gently.

“Right, right.” Luis said and hobbled over to Héctor. He had a bizarre rhythmic limp that Miguel found engrossing to watch; he bobbed up and down, and up and down…

He sighed and shook himself. He was getting carried away again. Deciding to focus on Luis, he watched with rapt attention as the doctor examined Héctor.

Luis quickly went over Héctor’s bones, touching each and every single one of them and peering at them closely. Every now and then he whispered something and frowned, before shaking his head and resuming his examination.

Then he abruptly turned to him and Imelda, his expression serious, but soft.

“Nothing’s changed. Which is good.” He informed them.

“How is that good?” Miguel questioned.

“It means that Senor Héctor’s bones haven’t degraded any more since yesterday- his condition is stable. Usually when people are being forgotten, they deteriorate rapidly. But he isn’t. Now, if you’ll please follow me to the sofa, I can examine you.” Luis said brightly, already limping away.

“Oh. Of course.” Miguel mumbled and stumbled after him.

Imelda watched them go with amused eyes, before going to Héctor’s side and taking his hand.

Miguel knew that she just wanted to be with her husband, and that if he really needed her, she would hurry over and comfort him at a moment’s notice.

Thankfully, he was rather relaxed and felt he could do this. Luis was a nice doctor and he got the impression that the old man knew exactly what he was doing.

So, he lay down comfortably on the plush sofa and let Luis touch him, examining his bones as he had done so with Héctor moments before.

“This shouldn’t take too long. Please stay still. It’s all routine.” Luis said, gently picking up his right hand.

“Are you going to look at my markings?” Miguel asked timidly, remembering his demonic face.

Luis nodded slowly.

“I have to. But I’m not bothered by them- I’ve seen them before. Although, it’s been many years since I last diagnosed a curse.” He said.

“You’ve seen them before?” Miguel whispered, feeling shocked.

“Oh yes. On plenty of people. Even Children.” Luis said.

“Children?” Miguel asked faintly.

 _There are others like me? I’m not alone._ He thought.

“You’d be surprised at just how many- just how many were desperate enough to steal from the dead over the years. They had no family to send them home.” Luis revealed, frowning.

“Oh.” Miguel said, his heart falling.

“I’d better get on with my examination. Please lie back.” Luis said quickly, moving on before they got too distracted.

Miguel nodded. He lay back against the pillows and cleared his mind, shutting his eyes and doing his best to make everything quiet.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. The realisation was just too shocking…

There were other children like him, suffering the same cruel fate and the same black markings. But the worst thing was that they didn’t deserve it. None of them deserved to be cursed.

And they weren’t the only ones.

There were also Héctor’s friends; the almost-forgotten skeletons that lived in the ruined shanty town in the outskirts of the city.

He…. he wanted to see them again. Maybe they could help Héctor somehow? As fleeting a possibility as it was, they had known him for years and might be able to jog his memory.

And maybe, just maybe, he could help them as well…

All he had to do was ask Imelda-

“Please raise your right hand up and down, then your left.” Luis suddenly instructed him.

Miguel opened his eyes and complied, smiling lightly when Luis thanked him. The Doctor was making copious notes on a clipboard.

He eased himself back and shut his eyes again, returning to his reflections.

He felt like it could heal him-by helping others, like Héctor’s friends and the other cursed children, everyone who didn’t have a family of their own, he could begin to accept his new life.

The world was his familia after all…

He sighed and opened his eyes, returned to the present. He was getting too ahead of himself. As much as he would love to help everyone, he had to be realistic.

First of all, he had to take care of himself- he was just a child and had just died. He needed to get his bearings and get used to his new life. And secondly, he had to take care of Héctor.

Yes, making up for his biggest failure was the most important thing. After all, it was his fault that Héctor was suffering.

He had to restore him to life- well, life after death, by any means necessary.

Only when he had his dear Papa beside him, could he begin to move forward and accept his new life.

Miguel took a deep breath and focused on Luis and his examination.

The rest of it went by quickly. Whenever Luis requested it, Miguel raised his limbs up and down a few times and then moved them around.

Then- he let Luis examine his face, managing to not flinch as the doctor carefully moved his head around and felt his terrible markings.

Throughout it all, he could hear a happy crunching noise.

Dante was still busy with his ear.

It made him smile. At least somebody was happy.

Eventually, Luis sighed and put his clipboard away. He had seemingly finished with his examination.

“Right. Thank you for staying still. Everything seems normal. Even your markings.” He said.

“But they’re so dark- and demonic.” Miguel argued.

“That doesn’t mean anything- well, it only signifies that you stole from the dead. But that’s it. And anyone- anyone decent, will recognise that you’re just a child and that having them isn’t your fault. Not one bit.” Luis said.

Miguel quietened and just stared at him as he waved Imelda over, processing just how nonchalant Luis was about everything. In a weird way, it was comforting.

“Miguel’s bones are all in good shape and he has good autonomy- the conditions of a well-remembered young skeleton. And he doesn’t have any external issues- for example, any broken or missing bones from when he was alive. Some people come to us with pre-existing injuries and such. Like fractures.” Luis explained, then took a deep breath. “So, we can move on to discussing how his curse is connected to Senor Héctor’s coma. But first…did anything happen yesterday? Any events I should be aware of?”

“Héctor woke up again…and Miguel has dreamed of his living familia. As the biography said, he’s been having flashes of his body.” Imelda informed him.

Luis looked at her with wide eyes.

“Please, tell me everything.” He requested.

“I think I can do it Mama Imelda. It was my dream after all…and I feel like I’m okay enough to talk about it.” Miguel said, not wanting to be left out.

Luis turned to him expectantly, while Imelda looked uncertain, then swallowed and nodded.

Miguel started with his first dream; explaining his initial confusion at seeing his body in De la Cruz’s memorial, then his horror at seeing Rosita and her reaction to his death, and finally, after overcoming some minor hesitation, that she’d heard him when he’d called out to her.

Luis did not react the way Miguel expected him to.

“Really?” The Doctor asked with wide, almost manic eyes.

Miguel nodded, frowning at his expression.

“Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. I’ve never heard such a clear recollection. The ones we have on records were always scattered and distant.” Luis mumbled, smiling with some sort of dazed satisfaction that deeply confused him.

Imelda coughed loudly, making them both look at her. She was glaring at Luis steadily, her eyes full of passionate anger.

Luis blinked, then winced, rubbing his neck sheepishly and turning to him with an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry for unnerving you. It’s just that…new research excites me. I’ll try to pull myself together. Please, move on to your next dream.” He said quickly.

“Oh. Umm…thank you for apologising. You don’t need to feel bad- but moving on to my second dream, I umm...had it after Papa Héctor woke up again.” Miguel said.

“Senor Héctor woke up again? Please- tell me about that as well.” Luis said, inching forward. He was fidgeting in his seat slightly, clasping and unclasping his hands and bouncing up and down.

Miguel could tell the doctor was holding himself back.

“It happened last night. I went to say goodnight to him with Mama Imelda and I sang to him- a song I thought he would respond to, “Remember me”. He…he didn’t react at first, but then he suddenly woke up and asked us if everything was okay. He thought I was his son. He seems to be stuck in a dream world.” Miguel rambled shakily, doing his best to describe things.

“Then we umm- we finished the song together, and he comforted me- he said I could come and sleep next to him and Imelda if I had a troubled night. Which I did- I mean I had trouble sleeping, but in the end, I didn’t come to them. Because I had my next dream, and it was _horrible_ ” He hurriedly continued, looking at Imelda for assurance.

She gave him a warm smile, but her gaze was full of worry. She slowly left Héctor and came over to stand beside him, offering her presence and silent support.

Miguel sighed deeply and took a shuddering breath. He could do this- he _had_ to do this. For Papa Héctor.

He opened his mouth and started explaining his second dream.

He managed to get through most of it without breaking down, at least until he reached the part where his mother had seen his body and screamed.

“I-I tried so hard to stay quiet. Because of what had happened with Rosa, I didn’t want them to hear me. I m-managed to stop myself from crying. Nobody seemed to have heard me...then Mama suddenly declared that she wanted to end my familia’s music ban. Papa comforted her and they asked the doctor- the morgue doctor, more questions about my death. About the investigation and stuff. I don’t want talk about it.” Miguel shook and paused for breath, a few tears running down his cheeks. He hurriedly wiped them away with a sleeve and tried to rein himself in.

“After that, Papa asked the doctor about Héctor- about who he was. Oh, I almost forgot- it was after he’d agreed with Mama about the music ban. They both want to end it. And the doctor brought up Héctor- he’d broken protocol or something to get information, and talked to Mama and Papa about what he had discovered about Héctor’s past , and his disappearance. Then, my parents left. They wanted to do more research into Héctor.” He finally finished, his voice wobbling.

He had never done so much talking before. He felt as if he had run a marathon.

Beside him, Mama Imelda bristled with shock and horror, while Luis just nodded and mumbled lowly to himself, still completely unfazed.

 _He’s probably heard worse._ Miguel thought morbidly.

“I-I- it’s so much worse than I thought. Miguel…I’m so sorry. I just need a moment to come to terms with it- everything. But I can focus on the doctor- I’m surprised that he actually told your parents about Héctor.” Imelda said suddenly. She was shaking.

“The accurate term is coroner.” Luis corrected her breezily, but snapped his mouth shut when Imelda glared at him stormily. He looked ashamed of himself.

“It’s good that he did, Mama Imelda” Miguel said, ignoring Luis. “Even if he broke protocol or whatever…it means that my parents now know about Héctor and can research him. I hope that they can find a way to bring his memory back, by making Mama Coco remember him. But Mama Elena…she won’t understand. She won’t be happy with what they’re doing- she won’t back down.” Miguel said, remembering how defensive his grandmother was about the familia music ban.

He sat up and hugged his knees. It made him so sad, that his familia would have to argue and bicker and experience even more emotional pain so that Papa Héctor could be rightfully remembered. And worst of all, they didn’t know the truth about Héctor’s death; how Ernesto De la Cruz had murdered him and tarnished his memory.

“No. She won’t. But your mother won’t back down either. Luisa is a strong woman. And in this instance, she’s entirely right. It’s time the music ban ended, and for Héctor’s memory to finally be honoured.” Imelda declared, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder.

Miguel nodded fiercely at her and leaned into her hand.

Luis sighed and pinched his brow. He put his clipboard down and looked at them forlornly.

“As positive as all of this is, I’m afraid to say that it might not actually help Senor Héctor. It’s good that your living familia is working to uncover the truth of his death, and hopefully get his story out. Maybe they’ll even accept him…but to really remember him- the way Senor Héctor needs to be remembered to seemingly regain consciousness, they need a direct link, something to jog Senora Soccorro’s mind and make her actually tell them about her Papa. Take for instance, the police sketch. It’s not going to work for the Offrenda. They need a proper photo- to make Senora Soccoro remember him and make it actually count for the photo requirement.” Luis explained cautiously.

Miguel slumped back and gazed dejectedly at the ceiling. He shouldn’t be so sad. He’d already known about the limitations- Imelda had told him that morning, but to hear it from Luis- an actual doctor who worked at the Department for the Dead, made everything worse and extinguished what little hope he had left.

Imelda glared at Luis again, but this time he didn’t wilt and met her fierce gaze steadily.

“I’m sorry Miguel. It’s a tricky process- how memory works in relation to the land of the dead. It always has to be a direct transfer. Senora Soccoro actually _needs_ to pass her knowledge sans memories of Senor Héctor along to the rest of your living familia. Like stories and such. And… although a picture isn’t exactly _necessary_ \- it does help and lets future generations remember better. Visual aids are one of the strongest aids to memoir after all. Plus, it’s needed for access to the marigold bridge on the Day of the Dead. To let soul’s pass over and see their loved ones. That’s what Senor Héctor wanted originally after all” Luis said softly, his tone becoming wistful.

Imelda’s face fell, and she stopped glaring.

“I already told him all of that. But, it’s Just that…mi Coco is so old…how are we going to get her to remember Héctor in time- before she dies? If her fraying memory is the only thing that’s keeping him together, then we don’t have much time left. Surely, there must be some way to contact the world of the living somehow- to get people to remember their forgotten loved ones, in special cases?” She asked desperately.

Miguel gave Luis a pleading look, but looked away when the doctor huffed dejectedly and shook his head.

“That’s against the rules. The Land of the Dead is the Land of the Dead for a reason. There can be no overlap with the world of the living. We can’t risk discovery, and it would be unfair to all the other souls who never got the chance to make their loved ones remember them. Tragedy is a part of death.” Luis said.

Miguel forced himself to sit up again, turning to face the doctor with his resolve intact.

He wasn’t ready to give up just yet. He had to try to persuade Luis to-

“Is there any precedent for it?” Imelda asked abruptly, talking before he could. Her voice was like sharp steel. But it was wavering. She was being uncharacteristically desperate. And Miguel suspected she was doing it for his sake.

“You mean- precedent for denying it?” Luis said calmly.

“Yes. In the past, has anyone tried to get permission to boost someone’s memory in the living world? And been refused?” Imelda pressed.

“Plenty of times. All have failed. Senora Imelda, it’s why we have a village full of suffering, almost forgotten people. They are the first to pass away for a reason. They have no living familia- no one to remember them. Just because of the unjust circumstances of Senor Héctor’s passing, doesn’t mean that he’s a special exception.” Luis said, disgust creeping into his voice. It was obvious that he heavily disagreed with the policy.

Miguel flinched. He couldn’t keep it in-

“That’s so cruel! Someone should help them!” He said, almost yelling.

“I’ve tried. Many times. Only to hear- “we don’t have the resources” and other stupid excuses from the board.” Luis said.

“All right. But what if we make a special request?” Miguel pleaded.

Luis sighed and looked at him with gentle reproach. His dim, dark-brown eyes were full of pity.

“It won’t work. You’d have to go higher than upper management- which doesn’t exist.” He said. “What I mean is- you’d have to make a request to a higher board than the board of directors, and there is no higher board.”

“Are you sure?” Miguel said, still not wanting to give up.

“Miguel Rivera, I have worked at the Department of the Dead for almost a century. I am sure. More than sure. This Department is run by human souls, for the management of human souls Therefore, it’s steeped in bureaucracy. A bureaucracy that has rules. Yes, it stops a lot of good things from getting accomplished. But it’s needed- rules are needed, to ensure that everything runs smoothly and that millions- if not billions of souls, are managed effectively” Luis argued sombrely. His jaw was clenched, lips pursed.

Miguel sighed and looked at the floor, then he heard Imelda clear her throat and quickly looked at her instead.

“So, if we can’t help Héctor through normal channels…I guess that our last hope is the archives?” She asked steadily.

Luis smiled and nodded approvingly.

“I was just about to suggest that. In spite of the dust…” He momentarily shuddered, then shook himself and continued. “It’s our best bet to find an answer for all this. I thought about it while we were side-tracked- but thankfully, I think our discussion aided me in diagnosing our problem.”

“Side-tracked? We didn’t get side-tracked. We were talking about Héctor.” Imelda said angrily.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. What I mean is- it made me realise that Miguel’s curse is connected to Senor Héctor’s coma in a very intimate way. Almost as if it’s also stopping him from fading away.” Luis supplied helpfully.

“What?!” Miguel and Imelda both asked in unison.

“Please- I’m not quite sure how it works. Yet. It’s just my impression of things. Talking about memory and your living familia made me realise it. Miguel, both you and Senor Héctor seem to be experiencing almost opposing symptoms- let me make it clear, when you dream, you dream of the living, in contrast, when Senor Héctor is awake, he seems to think he is _living_. If that makes sense. But he does remember you and cares for you- he even thinks that you’re his son. I’m very curious of what Senor Héctor is dreaming about. Especially at this very moment.” Luis explained and glanced at the slumbering skeleton.

“Is he dreaming that he’s dead? Is he dreaming at all?” He added, sounding awed.

“My head is spinning- I need a break from all this.” Imelda suddenly declared, sighing exasperatedly and rubbing her temples.

“Me too. This is all too much.” Miguel agreed. His head hurt, and he didn’t know what to make of what Luis had just told them.

“I think a break would be good. And, well, you do have an entire day free. Go and clear your heads. Try to do something fun. I don’t think the press is a danger. But nevertheless, be careful. Try not to draw attention to yourselves.”. Luis warned.

Miguel recalled the broadcast from the previous evening, and shuddered.

“We were on the news last night. Are you sure it’s safe? I don’t want to be hounded.” He asked.

“It depends where you go. Do you have any ideas?” Luis said.

“The Alebrije park…” Miguel trailed off.

“Ah. Well…that’s an interesting place. It should be safe. But if I were you, I’d take things slowly and check it before deciding to spend time there. It is a highly public place and a lot of children congregate there.” Luis said.

“Miguel and I will be careful.” Imelda said, cutting into the conversation smoothly.

Miguel smiled at her. He fully trusted her judgement.

“Yeah. We will.” He said.

Luis smiled at them warmly and nodded.

“Good. I’ll talk to Renata and schedule our visit to the archives for this evening. You can show up at six pm and I’ll have the guards escort you to the basement.” He said.

Miguel stood up and stretched, his bones creaking as he evened them out. He was finally ready to face the day. More importantly, there was still hope. He could still save Papa Héctor.

“Oh! Did you learn anything from examining me?” He said.

“Hmm? Oh yes. You were most helpful. You’re clearly still cursed. And I’m more than sure it’s affecting Senor Héctor. I’m just not sure on the particulars yet-it has something to do with sleeping. But whether or not it’s dreams or patterns or whatever, I can’t be entirely sure with my diagnosis…but I’m positive that the archives holds answers. Now, I’m going to need you to leave Héctor with me while you go off and explore the city. I need to put my findings together and it’ll be good to have him close.” Luis said.

“You’ll look after him? What if he wakes up?” Miguel rallied.

 _I won’t be there to help him._ He thought dejectedly.

“Then I’ll tell him he’s at the doctors, having a general check-up.” Luis said breezily.

“I’d better write him a note or something- telling him that I’ve taken Miguel out. Otherwise, he’ll wonder why I’m not with him. I always accompanied him to the doctor’s office in Santa Cecilia” Imelda said quickly.

“Are you sure it’ll work?” Miguel said uncertainly, still uncomfortable.

“It will. Héctor always listens to me, and he knows my writing. He’ll be put off, but he’ll cave if he knows that I’m looking after you. He understands that our familia is my responsibility. He always did…” Imelda said sadly.

“Thank you, Senora Imelda. It seems we’re done. But on that note, before you leave, is there anything else you wish to ask me about?” Luis asked.

Miguel perked up. He had an idea.

“Do you know if there are any other people like me here? if they haven’t disappeared?” He said.

Luis cocked his head, thinking deeply, then nodded.

“Hmm. I think so…I mean, I’d need to check our records to find out. It’s been several decades…the last case was a young girl…Don’t worry, I’ll look into it. I don’t mind doing it- I enjoy looking at records if they’re digital. Because they aren’t covered in dust. Anyways, if you want more support, I can offer you therapy to help you accept things? We have many accomplished therapists.” He said.

Miguel frowned. Therapy was a foreign thing to him. He hadn’t- it hadn’t been offered to him before.

“I’ll think about it.” He said seriously.

“Good. Do you have anything to ask me, Senora Imelda?” Luis said, addressing his Grandmama.

Imelda blinked. She’d been looking into space, with a distant look in her eyes, clearly ruminating on something.

“I don’t think so.” She stated after a moment. Her tone was faint. She still seemed a bit spaced out.

“Right. Well, let me just get you a piece of paper and a pen then.” Luis said and went to his desk, quickly returning with the items.

Imelda frowned at him, then shook her head sheepishly when she realised what he was doing.

Miguel glanced worriedly at her. She’d completely forgotten about the letter she had agreed to write. Something was obviously wrong. He would have to broach the subject later.

Imelda quickly wrote Héctor a letter and then gave it to Luis, who quickly read it, nodded in satisfaction, and put it away.

“That seems to be everything. Sooooo, please have a lovely day. You can leave whenever you want. I have work I need to do, and a lot of departments to contact. See you this evening.” Luis said genially, waving at them, before suddenly going his desk and turning on his computer. He was oblivious to their presence.

Imelda and Miguel stared at one another. Yet again, Luis’s oblique but direct manner had caught them off guard.

“Umm, let’s get going Mijo. We have a lot to see.” Imelda said slowly, finally bringing herself back to reality.

“R-right. Bye Papa Héctor.” Miguel said, waving at Héctor’s still comatose form as he joined her.

Dante loped out as they left the office, hurriedly scurrying out after them as they shut the door. He was licking his lips and seemed quite satisfied with himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am gonna try and go back to my regular updoot schedule. 
> 
> To everyone that has left a comment: THANK YOU!


	10. Naïveté

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back my dudes!
> 
> I'm so, so, so, sorry for not updating in 6 months. I had a lot of trouble with this chapter; personal issues, terrible writers block, indecision and well, the current situation. 
> 
> I probably rewrote this one about 5 times, just trying and trying to get it right. Hopefully, you guys like it. I feel like it'll split people.
> 
> As for future chapters, I'll probably updating in two weeks. 
> 
> I have up to chapter 16 written. Chapter 12 should be a fun chapter.
> 
> and remember...REVIEWS HELP THE AUTHOR!

 

* * *

As they landed in a quiet side street near the main Alebrije park, Miguel finally noticed the birds- the skeletal pigeons. He had first seen from his bedroom window the day before.

He’d been so focused on helping Héctor and his familia, that he had completely forgotten about them.

They were everywhere, piling up on the street and twittering on window ledges and roofs.

They didn’t panic at their presence at all. Most of them seemed bored.

He approached a small cluster of them as Imelda tended to Pepita.

The birds regarded him with a wary eye as he came closer.

Staring at them, he was surprised to see that they had no feathers.

 _How do they fly?_ He mused.

“Miguel?” Imelda called out.

He whirled around and hurried back to her.

“S-sorry Mama Imelda. I was just studying the birds.” He mumbled

“The birds? What’s so special about them- oh, you haven’t seen them yet.” She said, then laughed. “Trust me, they’re nothing special. They’re craftier than the pigeons back home. Other than that, they still poo everywhere like all birds do.”

“Oh.” Miguel said simply, only to pause when several of the birds glared at Imelda.

She just glared back at them and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry about them. They can’t do anything. Follow me. The Alebrije park isn’t too far.” She said and started walking away.

Miguel’s stomach did a flip and he quickly followed her. He didn’t want to be left behind.

A few moments later, Miguel heard excited barking behind them and looked back.

Dante was trying to get Pepita to play with him. He kept jumping on her, but she just ignored him.

“Shh. Dante, stop bothering her. You can play when we get to the park.” Miguel whispered, softly chiding his Alebrije.

Dante’s ears drooped, but he relented. Pepita yawned and sent Miguel a grateful look.

Miguel turned back to Imelda, only to see her starring at him with fond approval.

“Well done. You really are my Grandson.” She joked.

Miguel smiled at her.

“Come on. We need to cross a large street to get to the park. We have to be careful.” She said and resumed walking.

Soon enough, they approached the aforementioned street.

There were some people milling around in the distance, but not too many of them. Although, near to their position, there was a trolley stop. There was a small group of people waiting for a ride.

He narrowed his eyes.

He could just make out the Alebrije park a little farther down. It was surrounded by a high iron railing.

 _We’re so close. Surely, we can risk it?_ He thought.

His heart beating with excitement, he stepped forward, only to be stopped by Imelda. She took him by the shoulder and gently held him in place.

“Just a moment.” She whispered.

He frowned, then jumped when a trolley suddenly floated down and docked at the stop next to them.

Everyone clambered on. The trolley conductor raised his baton and the trolley rose into the air and floated away.

Miguel watched it go with wide eyes, entranced by the golden sparkles it emitted.

Imelda relaxed her grip on him.

“Sorry for grabbing you, Mijo.” She said.

“It’s okay. How did you know the trolley was coming?” He asked.

She shrugged.

“Lucky guess.” She chuckled. “No, I just know the trolley schedules. It was almost ten-thirty when we left the Department. Trolleys always come every half-hour”.

“Ah.” He said, feeling dumb.

“No need chastise yourself. You’ll…you’ll get used to living in a city. Come on, we can go now. You’re going to love the park.” She said warmly and took him gently by the hand.

A few people spotted them as they hurried across the street, followed by Pepita and Dante, and pointed at them excitedly.

Thankfully, they didn’t come any closer.

Finally, they went through a high-arched gateway and entered the park. Miguel was surprised by what he saw.

As expected, the park was teeming, simply _teeming,_ with Alebrijes of all species and all colours, but rather unexpectedly, there was a large group of _children_ as well.

They were playing with the animals, whooping and yelling loudly.

Imelda was also taken aback. She narrowed her eyes and bit her lip in confusion.

Then, some of the children saw them and yelled, alerting the others to their presence.

Everyone froze, staring at them with gobsmacked expressions. Even the animals.

“Umm…hi?” Miguel said loudly, struggling to keep his voice steady.

A few of the children blinked, then a little girl, who’d been hopping from foot to foot and glaring at everyone else, ran forward.

“Don’t just stand there! It’s Miguel everyone!” She called out.

Almost immediately, there was a reaction.

The group of children shook their heads, then grinned and laughed, and swarmed him and Imelda.

Miguel stepped back. He hated being overwhelmed, and even contemplated running away.

Unfortunately, the children reached them before he could make a decision. 

They… they didn’t touch him. Instead, they kept their distance, offering him kinds words and yells of encouragement.

“You’re here! You’re really here! I thought the report was lying.” One boy shouted.

Before Miguel could ask him what he meant, the little girl who’d yelled moments before wailed loudly, making everyone stare at her.

She didn’t look distressed. It had just been a ploy to get their attention.

She gave him an apologetic look, then brightened up.

“Do you want to play? I have a Xolo as well!” She said.

“Shut it Luisa! I wanna play with him first!” A faraway voice declared.

The little girl glared behind her and then ran away, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

All of the children started arguing. They came closer, almost enveloping him and Imelda.

Imelda hugged Miguel and protectively brought him close.

Miguel looked at her.

She was glaring strongly at the children, but there was also a _lost_ glint in her eyes. She didn’t know what to do.

“We should take him flying!” Someone proposed.

“He’s _been_ flying. I should show him my lion!” Another child countered.

Their voices blurred together.

“I’m so sorry for you Miguel!”

“We all accept you. Your markings don’t bother us.”

“Yeah. It sucks to die young…Just kidding! We get to play forever!”

Their incessant chattering made his head hurt and he collapsed to his knees, completely overwhelmed by what he was hearing.

The entire group fell silent, murmuring quiet apologies and sending him guilty looks.

 _They aren’t bothered by my markings. Why?_ He thought. It was the only thing he could focus on.

Imelda angrily opened her mouth, ready to yell and disperse the children.

Before she could, another voice spoke up.

“That’s quite enough everyone! You’re doing exactly what I told you not to.” An authoritative voice called out. It sounded incredibly annoyed.

The crowd of children all turned and sheepishly looked at someone. There were more apologetic murmurs.

Then they _parted._ Like a sea dividing in two.

Miguel scrambled to his feet.

Someone was approaching them.

A tall, lanky, hooded figure, with a multicoloured monkey on their right shoulder.

They seemed familiar…

 _That’s the person I saw this morning! They were spying on me!_ He realised.

Imelda hugged him closer, directing her glare at the new arrival.

The hooded figure chuckled.

“Really, Senora Imelda, you think _I’m_ a threat? A teenage girl.” The per- girl quipped.

She shook off her hood.

Miguel immediately reeled backwards, almost falling over himself. He felt Imelda tense.

The girl- she had black markings. They looked just like his.

After he got over his initial shock, he studied her closer.

She had a narrow skull, dark brown eyes, so dark that they were almost black, and long black hair that was tied up in a single, long, braid.

Her clothing was strange.

She wore grey _robes._

They hung loosely over her body, making her look large and misshapen. 

They were tightened at the waist with a large belt. This prevented them from reaching past her knees.

It also exposed her bare, bony feet.

Despite her height, he guessed that she was around Rosita’s age. Maybe slightly older.

The girl smiled at him gently when she noticed him staring.

“Hey.” She said softly. “You’re not alone with your curse. I’m just like you, but it’s a long story. Anyways, welcome to the land of the dead, Miguel Rivera.”

“Who are you?” He blurted out. “Didn’t I see you at the department of the dead?”

Imelda gasped when the girl nodded.

Dante started growling at her. Suddenly, he was hit with a small rock. This made him yelp and he stumbled back, looking bewildered.

The monkey on the girl’s shoulder grinned mischievously at him and raised another rock.

The girl gave her Alebrije an unamused look, and the animal backed down.

“Yes, you did. My name is Isabella. Just Isabella. No surname.” The girl- Isabella said.

“Well, Isabella, why are you here? I just wanted to show my grandson the Alebrije park. I didn’t want to be hounded by a large group of bothersome children.” Imelda said strongly, finally gathering the courage to speak up.

In response, the group of children started hurling insults at her. 

Isabella silenced them with a handwave, before turning back to Imelda with a lazy smirk.

“Wow…you are so naïve. Your whole family is naïve. Especially Héctor.” She said breezily.

“You know Papa Héctor?” Miguel said incredulously. He didn’t believe it.

Isabella’s smile grew.

“Oh, yes. Not that well though. I’ve spoken to him a few times over the years. The shantytown of the forgotten is part of my turf.” She explained.

“Turf?” Miguel questioned.

“It’s a long story…another long story. Unfortunately, as much as I want to play with you here, we’d better get going.” She cautioned.

“Huh?” Miguel mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Imelda pressed.

Isabella rolled her eyes gently.

“Reporters?” She said.

Miguel blinked.

He didn’t understand.

 _What do reporters have to do with anything? Oh, wait…me._ He thought, freezing up when he realised what Isabella was implying.

Imelda gave him worried look, then turned to Isabella.

“You don’t think that they’d actually come _here?_ How could they possibly know about our trip?” She argued.

“You’ve never been the centre of attention, have you?” Isabella snapped.

She sighed.

“I’m sorry for that, but we really do have to get going. You should be well aware of human nature…the press loves a good story. And Miguel is the most interesting story in decades.” She said quickly.

Imelda opened her mouth, only to be interrupted yet again, this time by a loud, ferocious roar.

It sounded like a dragon.

“That’s the signal! Places everyone!” Isabella yelled, pulling her hood up.

The children scattered in all directions.

Isabella’s monkey chirruped loudly.

The Alebrijes scattered as well.

Soon enough, the six of them; he, Imelda, Pepita, Dante, and Isabella and her monkey, were the only ones left in the square.

It was quite surreal. The place had been teeming with people and animals a few moments before.

Isabella ran towards them. She had an eerily calm smile on her face.

“We need to get going.” She stated.

“Who says we’ll go anywhere with you?” Imelda asked furiously. “You could’ve set this whole thing up.”

Isabella rolled her eyes again, in a far more mocking manner than before.

“Listen, if you want to be hounded by the press, be my guest. I’m not doing this for _your_ benefit, Senora Imelda, but Miguel’s. I went through what he is going through. When I gained _my_ markings, everyone was interested in me. I had to disappear, for a long time, for them to lose interest in me.” She ranted bitterly, pulling down her hood and pointing at her markings.

“So, for the love of _God,_ can we please get on with it?” She added, putting her hood back up.

Her anger spurred Miguel to act.

“I think we should go with her, Mama Imelda. I don’t think she’s lying.” He said quickly.

He meant it.

He didn’t trust Isabella quite yet, but he didn’t doubt her sincerity.

He had a feeling that she was telling the truth.

“Thank you, Miguel.” Isabella said, flashing him a relieved smile.

Imelda sighed.

“Well, I don’t like this, but I’ll go along with it. Just because it’s what Miguel wants.” She said carefully.

“Right. Finally. Follow me.” Isabella instructed and began running through the park.

Hesitating for a moment, Imelda nodded, then grabbed his arm, and started running after her.

“Where are we going?” Miguel asked loudly.

“Somewhere we can talk in private! Senora Imelda. tell your Alebrije to fly away. She can confuse the reporters.” Isabella suggested.

“What.” Imelda said flatly.

“Just do it.” Isabella yelled.

“Fine. Pepita, go.” Imelda gave in.

Pepita growled exasperatedly.

“I know, I know. Just do it. You can meet up with us later. I’ll send Dante out.” Imelda said.

Pepita duly took off, speeding away in the opposite direction.

Miguel watched her go with trepidation. He hoped that she would be okay.

They ran down the main path for quite a while, before Isabella led them right, and then left, ducking and twisting through various trees and bushes. She seemed to know where she was going.

Soon enough, they ran out into the open again.

Isabella slowed down to a walk and yelled that they had a few moments to catch their breath, but only a few.

Then she picked up speed, as did they, and resumed running.

They passed a vista of flowers, a pagoda, and a statue or two before they finally made their way out of the park and back into the city.

Which was where they encountered a group of reporters.

They ran out of a side-gate, and right past a group of children and Alebrije keeping back a mob of skeletons in suits.

Isabella turned left and ignored them. She waved at him and Imelda to keep following her.

“There he is!” A man shouted, pointing right at him.

The reporters seemed to rally around his cry, and began pushing back against the children.

Miguel winced when he saw a few flashes. They were taking his picture. 

Imelda squeezed his hand, but kept pulling him along. She didn’t let him waver.

The children were barely keeping the older skeletons back.

Isabella abruptly turned right and ran right across the street.

He and Imelda leapt after her.

They were both panting deeply. They would have to stop soon.

Next to them, Dante was wheezing, frantically flapping his little wings as he struggled to keep pace.

Then they heard a familiar roar.

A dragon landed behind them and clawed at the reporters, sending them scattering for cover.

Once they had reached the other side, Isabella slowed down once more.

“We’re almost there. HQ is only a few blocks away.” She declared, giving them a relieved look.

Miguel felt very confused and tired. He didn’t have the strength to question her.

Thankfully, Imelda did.

“Headquarters!?” Imelda yelled with a strangled voice.

“You’ll see. Just through a couple of alleys, down another road, then a left turn, and we’ll be there. We don’t have to run. It should be safe.” Isabella said brightly, leading them towards a small alley.

“This is crazy Miguel.” Imelda whispered to him.

“I know Mama Imelda, but she wasn’t lying about the reporters. We can trust her. At least…for the moment.” He assured her.

She smiled warmly at him and loosened her grip on his hand.

Together, the staggered onwards.

Isabella led them through several crisscrossing alleys.

They were incredibly dirty and smelled like the public latrines in Santa Cecilia.

Then, just as Isabella had said, they went down a small road, and turned left into a side street.

There were a dozen buildings all tightly packed together.

Miguel didn’t know which one was their destination.

“Where are we going?” He managed to ask, forcing the words out of his mouth.

“Somewhere protected by God! A place of sanctuary.” Isabella quipped, then stopped.

She smirked at them and pointed at a large, grey building across the street.

Miguel blinked fiercely. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Imelda followed suit, then glared softly at Isabella.

“Seriously?” She deadpanned.

“Yes. Seriously. You adults are so sentimental- a church is a great place to hide. No one will think to look for us here. Especially at this church, because it’s a dump.” Isabella explained. Despite having just insulted it, she sounded oddly fond of the building.

Miguel stared at the church.

It was a big grey…block. 

It only had one spire, with an imposing iron cross at the top, and its façade was rather plain.

“Come on.” Isabella said, running up to the building. 

He and Imelda followed her wearily. 

Isabella walked up to the front doors and started loudly hammering on them with both hands.

Miguel let go of Imelda’s hand at and covered his ears. It was too loud.

Imelda frowned worriedly at him and began gently stroking his hair, whispering apologies and comforts to him.

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.” He muttered, smiling tiredly at her.

She smiled back.

Isabella sent them a concerned look and bit her lip. She seemed quite apologetic.

She didn’t say anything and turned back to the door.

She knocked on it again, except this time she was much quieter.

Suddenly, Miguel heard a panting noise.

Dante came bounding up the street. He ran right up to them.

He whined and plastered himself against Miguel’s side. His wings were drooping.

Miguel hadn’t noticed that they’d left the Xolo behind

He swallowed. He felt quite guilty.

He reached out to comfort his Alebrije, only to be interrupted by the doors of the church swinging open.

A large, plump woman wearing a nun’s habit came bustling out. She scowled stonily at Isabella.

“Isabella! I’ve been worried sick. It’s been three days. Three!” The nun scolded.

Her voice was like a whip, and each word hit hard.

Miguel didn’t care. He was trying to stifle a laugh.

The woman looked like a penguin. An angry penguin.

Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed his slip up. 

Isabella smiled sweetly at the nun.

The nun sighed deeply.

“You’d better come in. All of you.” She muttered and turned to let them in.

They limped into the church and she shut the door quietly behind them.

Dante immediately collapsed against it and shut his eyes.

It was quite dark inside.

Miguel narrowed his eyes, trying to adjust them to the gloom.

“I’m sorry that it’s so dark. I don’t have electricity. I can’t afford it. And well, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.” The large nun said, scowling at Isabella again.

“It’s nice to see you as well Sister Sofia.” Isabella demurred.

She walked away and sat down on a nearby pew.

Sofia bristled, too stunned to say anything.

 “Well done everyone! We made it. We can relax now.” Isabella snarked.

She reached up and gathered her Alebrije into her arms, and started absentmindedly patting them.

“Isabella, I was worried sick. You didn’t leave a note. What was I supposed to think? And then you drag these poor strangers here. What were you thinking?” Sofia suddenly bellowed.

Isabella sighed loudly and put her Alebrije down, getting up to addressing her caretaker. The monkey whined and pouted, then crossed its arms and glared at the floor.

“I’m sorry Sofia. I was caught up in the excitement of Dios Los Muertos. You know how deserted the city is during the holiday. I... went exploring and got carried away. I enjoy my freedom too much. And when I finally got back, I was inundated by reports telling me about the new arrival.” She said, thumbing towards him.

Miguel stared at her.

“Then I had to plan a large operation- larger than anything I’ve ever worked on before. And _then_ I had to execute it at short notice, to prevent Miguel from being swarmed by reporters the second he appeared in public.” She finished, sounding very tired.

Sofia sighed. Then she smiled at Isabella; a wane, tense smile, that was more _concerned_ than upset.

“You and your gang…I never should’ve taken in street children.” She muttered.

“Well, it’s too late. You can’t change the past.” Isabella quipped.

“That’s right, but I can change is the _future._ Specifically, _your_ future. So, as punishment for making me worry, you’re going to have to do _all_ of your chores today. And I mean, _all_ of them.” Sofia said, a dangerous glint in her eye.

“Easy. I can just bribe one of the younger children to do them.” Isabella chirruped.

“Isabella…” Sofia trailed off.

Miguel felt as if he’d stumbled into some insane soap opera.

He was watching a nun and a streetwise orphan argue about chores.

Thankfully, Dante came bouncing up to him and started excitedly licking his right hand.

“I’m sorry for leaving you behind Dante.” Miguel whispered, reaching out and scratching his Alebrije behind the ears.

Dante barked gently and greatly increased the force of his kisses, as if to say: “I love you and I don’t blame you.”

“Aww, Dante.” Miguel said and knelt, enveloping his Alebrije in a big hug.

Dante jumped on him, knocking him down to the floor.

Miguel laughed. And Laughed.

Eventually, he noticed that the room had gone silent. He hurriedly shushed Dante and got up.

Isabella was smirking at him, while Sofia just looked confused, and Imelda was a mix of embarrassment and happiness.

“Sorry Sofia, but I really need to get on with things and brief these two. I promise that I’ll do _all_ of my chores afterwards. Starting with the roof.” Isabella said sincerely.

Imelda shook her head.

“You have to “brief us” now? Don’t we get a say in this? Miguel and I, we just wanted a quiet afternoon exploring the city. We didn’t want all of this drama.” She complained.

Isabella glared intently at Imelda, her eyes dark and deep and unreadable.

Sofia frowned sharply at her.

“Look, if you want, you can leave right now. I’m sure those reporters would _love_ to meet you. In fact, I’m sure my gang of kids would love to meet you as well. I had a hard-enough time convincing them not to swarm you at the park when I explained my plan to them. I suggest that you, both of you, stay here and let me say my bit. As I said before Senora Imelda, I don’t care about you, it’s Miguel that I care about.” She lectured seriously.

A surprising thing happened.

Miguel started chuckling.

It wasn’t a light-hearted noise. No, it was a pained one.

Something in Isabella’s words…in her tone, just irked him. To no end.

“Miguel!” Imelda said worriedly.

He stopped and sighed.

Isabella was staring at him with wide eyes, completely stunned by his reaction.

Miguel let his gaze drop to the floor. He didn’t want to look at anyone.

 _I’m just so sick and tired of all of this…there seem to be new problem at every turn. It's either a problem with Papa Héctor, or a problem with me- my new facial markings and the excitement over my arrival in the land of the dead. I get it, I really do; I’m dead and I’m not going home to my living familia. Can’t I just have some peace? I want to help Héctor_ _and then I want_ to go home- _to my new home here. I want peace and quiet and an end to all this._ He ranted to himself.

“Fine. We’ll stay.” He grumbled out loud.

“Miguel.” Imelda repeated his name.

“It’s okay, Mama Imelda. I know this was meant to our time together. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can leave and catch up. I feel that we owe Isabella for saving us. So, I don’t mind listening to her.” He said slowly, looking back up.

“I’m sorry Miguel. I’ll…I’ll try to be brief, but there’s a lot to explain. And I’ll honour your wishes.” Isabella said sombrely, hoisting her monkey up onto her shoulders.

Even the monkey seemed ashamed.

“Are you sure about this, Isabella? It might be too much for him.” Sofia cautioned her softly.

“I am sure. Don’t worry, everything’ll be all right Sofia. Miguel is far more macho than he looks. He can handle it.” Isabella said.

“Come on, let’s go to the roof. It’s more private. This way.” She turned to him and Imelda.

They followed her through the dark hall, taking care not to walk into any of the pews or altars, and deeper into the building.

They eventually reached some a long winding spiral staircase.

Sofia stopped them at the bottom.

 “Should I bring up some water?” She asked tenderly. “You all look very worn out. I don’t mind. I need the exercise.”

“That would be great. Thank you.” Imelda said and smiled.

“Thank you, Sofia.” Isabella echoed humbly.

Sofia nodded and walked away into the gloom.

“The climb isn’t as difficult as it looks.” Isabella said. “It takes less than a minute to get to the top.”

She began walking up the stairs before they could say anything.

Miguel and Imelda shared a glance. 

They both took a deep breath and started climbing after her.

After a few moments, Miguel frowned. He’d realised something about that morning, something that didn’t make any sense.

“How did you know I would go to the Alebrije park?” He asked Isabella.

“Lucky guess. It’s the first place most of us wanted to visit when we arrived here. Including me.” She said.

“Us? Your gang?” Miguel questioned.

“All will be revealed soon.” She promised cryptically.

An abrupt yelp made them all jump. Even Isabella.

Dante came flying past them, zipping to the top of the stairs with a carefree bark.

A moment later, there was a crashing noise

Isabella blinked angrily, then swore, and raced after him.

Imelda and Miguel followed her at a slower pace.

They soon reached the top, and found Isabella glaring at a dizzy Dante. Her monkey was also glaring at the fallen Alebrije.

“Dante! That was very silly.” Miguel chided his Xolo. At the same time, he couldn’t help but smile.

As soon as Dante heard his voice, he shot up and started barking.

Isabella shushed him.

Dante’s barking became louder. He was taunting the girl.

“Dante! Please!” Miguel pleaded lightly.

The Xolo finally stopped.

“Thank you, Miguel. All right, it’s just through here.” Isabella said, opening a small door.

Miguel blinked at the sudden brightness.

He stumbled through after Isabella and Imelda.

Shaking his head, he let his eyes adjust to the brightness before he took notice of his surroundings.

The rooftop was tiny.

It was covered in a dusty canopy that didn’t do much to shelter it from the wind.

As for furniture, there was small bed roll and sofa near the door. At the far end, and taking up most space, was a pigeon coop.

The birds were hooting dolefully.

Further on, Miguel was surprised to see a long ladder leading off to the rooftop of the next building.

It, and the coop, were covered in guano.

“Home sweet home.” Isabella said, taking off her outer robes and carelessly throwing them down onto the bed roll

Her Alebrije leapt from her shoulders and snuggled up in the worn sheets.

“Sit.” Isabella commanded, gesturing to the sofa.

Miguel went ahead and sat down first, closely followed by Imelda.

Dante made himself comfortable in the middle of it all. There was no space anywhere else for him.

“So, here we are. What do you want to tell us?” Imelda demanded angrily. She sounded thoroughly unamused.

Isabella leaned back in her bed roll and grinned at them, showing them her grimy teeth.

“Welcome to one of the many headquarters of the “Eternal Children.” She declared.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?
> 
> Please leave a comment or a kudos or a blood sacrifice. 
> 
> REVIEWS HELP THE AUTHOR!


	11. The Eternal Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update time!
> 
> This is more of a transition chapter. Ch 12 will be more plot-ish. 
> 
> Sorry for the slowburn, but we have this, then chapter 12 and a brief interlude, and the plot will get moving again.

“The “Eternal children”?” Miguel asked. “What’s that?”

Isabella smirked.

“It’s a gang…my gang. Made up of children. Because of them, I know everything that goes on in this city.” She declared proudly.

“Sounds like a bunch of unruly children who are just messing around.” Imelda quipped.

Isabella glared at her.

“Of course, you’d say that. Like all- _almost_ all adults, you never think about street children.” She snapped.

“Pardon me?” Imelda pressed, taking offence at Isabella’s tone.

Isabella sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Breathing in and out, she forced herself to calm down.

“I’m sorry…gee, I’m apologising a lot today…It’s not you Senora Imelda, it’s this whole _city._ No one cares about us; the orphans, the abandoned, the unwanted, the abused, the _immortal children_ no one wants. That’s why we’re called the “Eternal Children”.” She said, giving them an intense look.

Miguel swallowed and looked at the floor. He was too uncomfortable to meet her gaze.

“It always hits me- the tragedy of it. Every time a child dies…be they poor, or rich, or whatever, they died _young_. They lost their entire _life._ That sucks. And it isn’t fair. But that’s just how it is.” Isabella said slowly.

Miguel slowly raised his head, regaining his courage, and looked at her.

Isabella smiled warmly at him.

Imelda kept quiet, but watched Isabella wearily. She was giving them space, and would only intervene if he got upset.

“But you and I…we’re _different_. We died _here,_ because we stole from the dead. We died _here,_ because we couldn’t get home in time. We died _here,_ because of our own actions. But…as much as we blame ourselves, _we_ have to accept that it wasn’t our fault. We didn’t know this fate was awaiting us.” She said fiercely.

Miguel blinked. Then, very slowly, and very cautiously, he nodded.

“Y-yeah.” He mumbled. “I didn’t know that any of this would happen.”

He felt…relieved. He’d finally met someone who could actually relate to his pain.

Isabella chuckled.

“That’s all you have to say? Really?” She mocked him lightly; her voice was full of mirth.

Miguel shifted uneasily. He didn’t know how to respond.

“Apologies. Force of habit. I’m so used to pushing back against the world that I even do it in casual conversation now.” Isabella said, scratching the back of her head sheepishly.

“Look- I’m not good at this- at opening up to others. But what I do know is how this city works- how the department, the press, whatever, _works._ ” She outlined plainly.

“What do you mean?” He asked, completely confused.

“Human nature.” Imelda stated suddenly. She looked annoyed- with herself, he realised.

Isabella laughed.

“Yup. Senora Imelda finally gets it. Better late than never.” She sniped.

“I was so foolish…to think that the press wouldn’t descend on us like a pack of wolves. “Nothing ever happens in the Land of the Dead”.” Imelda echoed.

“Yes, you were foolish. But that’s okay- I was there to save you. At least- “Isabella started.

The door opening cut her off.

Sister Sofia entered the roof carrying a pitcher of water in her left hand, three glasses under her right arm, and a plate of something that smelled delicious in her right hand.

Miguel wrinkled his nose and had to resist drooling.

He could smell biscuits. Freshly baked biscuits.

“Sister! The sugar cookies were meant for the younger children!” Isabella chastised the nun.

Sofia chuckled and shook her head as she handed out the glasses and cookies.

“I can always make more. I have plenty of free time. I hope you enjoy them.” She stated, yanking the cookies away from Isabella’s monkey when they tried to grab some.

“Thank you!” Miguel and Imelda both said at the same time.

Miguel laughed breezily. Imelda smirked and hid her expression behind a hand.

Sofia chuckled again, then gave Isabella a pointed stare.

“Thanks.” Isabella said slowly.

“Finally. It’s about damn time that you thanked me for something.” Sofia deadpanned.

She gave Isabella the jug and the plate and left the roof with a smile.

Miguel bit into his cookie and shut his eyes in pure bliss. It was so fresh!

Beside him, Imelda was trying (and failing) to hide the fact that she was enjoying the sweet as well.

Isabella smiled at them. Then she glared at the Alebrijes.

Both Dante and her monkey were staring at the cookies with wide eyes, but they didn’t dare try anything while she was watching.

“Right. Where was I- oh yes, at least for now you can get around town without the press hounding you.” She said.

“Thank you rescuing us.” Miguel said, realising that he’d forgotten to thank Isabella earlier.

“Thank you as well.” Imelda said slowly. She didn’t like admitting it.

Isabella laughed.

“Better late than never.” She repeated. “Now, we can chat about real issues.”

“Real issues?” He asked.

“Y’know…how you’re going to live your life without being hounded? How you’re going to spend the rest of your afterlife? If you need anything- any support. I’m here.” Isabella said carefully.

“The rest of my afterlife…” Miguel muttered.

He hadn’t really thought about that. Sure, he had thought about living in peace with his family, but not beyond that.

The future.

It was…overwhelming.

Imelda glared tiredly at Isabella.

“He’s only just arrived…please, let him have some breathing space. Don’t bring up the future so abruptly. It’s a thing we should discuss with our family, and a therapist, if Miguel wants to.” She said.

“It’s okay, Mama Imelda. I-I think I do need more time. Thank you for offering your support Isabella, but for now, I need to be with my familia.” Miguel said, trying to sound gracious.

Isabella nodded and winced.

“Y-yeah. Thank you. As I said, I have trouble opening up to people. I just want you to know that the “Eternal Children” are here for you. And well…let’s move on. Which place do you want to visit next in our fair city?” She said.

“Well, the Alebrije Park…” Miguel trailed off.

He shook his head.

“We obviously can’t go back there. So, what about the Shantytown where Héctor lived? I never saw his house, but he might have some stuff there and I’m sure that many of his friends would love to know how he is doing.” He said carefully.

To his surprise, Isabella beamed.

“That would be easy to arrange. A lot of children live there. Because it’s in such an unpleasant part of town, very few reporters are willing to go there. It’s the perfect place to visit.” She said brightly.

“Are you sure Miguel? I mean-are you sure you want to go? That it won’t be too much? I’m not sure I- seeing Héctor’s things might be too much for me. But I’ll go if you truly want to go.” Imelda cautioned.

“Mama Imelda…thank you. I just want to see where he lived. And maybe we can find something that can help him remember us. Héctor apparently helped a lot of people. He was very close to his neighbours.” He said, remembering their trek through the shantytown on the Day of the Dead.

It seemed so long ago…

Isabella laughed sharply.

They both stared at her.

“Man, oh man, I gotta see this. It’s been a while since I’ve been to the Shanties.” She barked.

“Don’t you have a job to do? Cleaning guano?” Imelda said.

“Well, I do-but Sister Sofia will understand. She knows how much I like helping people. Can your Alebrije carry three?” She asked.

“Pepita can. But I’m not sure I want you to come with us.” Imelda stated.

“Fair enough, I can easily make my own way there. I have a dozen different modes of transportation at my disposal.” Isabella admitted easily.

“What?” Imelda said flatly.

“If I want, I can call up a dragon Alebrije, or stowaway on a tram, or even use the old sewer tunnels.” She outlined smugly.

“Old sewer tunnels?” Miguel said, frowning at her.

Isabella sighed.

“I was just joking! The sewer tunnels are far too slow. And of course, I would let you have your privacy. Senor Héctoris your familia and I respect that.” She said.

“Your sense of humour is terrible.” Miguel quipped.

“Yes. I know.” Isabella said. “A lot of people tell me that.”

“Is there anything else we need to talk about?” Imelda said tersely.

“Well, where are you gonna go after the Shantytown?” Isabella enquired.

“We can think about that afterwards.” Imelda stated flatly.

“Well-how about I show you around town then? All the major sights!” Isabella said wryly.

Miguel blinked.

“I can clear people out for you. It’ll be…like an exclusive service.” Isabella joked.

“You can do that?” Miguel asked, feeling amazed.

“Easily.” Isabella smirked again.

“Ummm. I’m not sure. I think I just want a quiet day today.” He said.

Isabella pouted.

“Maybe when this is all over…I’d love to take you up on your offer.” Miguel said quickly.

Imelda frowned at Isabella.

“Pardon me, but what do you mean by an “exclusive service”? How? What…?” Imelda muttered.

“Tia Gloria told me about it. When she went to Mexico City with some of her girlfriends, she said that all the big sightshad long queues and they had to wait an hour to get in, but some people just bought tickets and skipped the queue. She was jealous.” He explained slowly, feeling sad upon recalling his living aunt.

“Enrique’s young sister…” Imelda trailed off.

“That sounds exactly like it. Nice comparison.” Isabella cheered.

“In fact, we should institute a system like that here. Make everyone pay for our services. Child labour is great!” She added with mock seriousness.

Miguel stared blankly at her.

“Not funny.” He deadpanned. He didn’t understand her jokes at all.

Isabella dismissed him with a hand wave.

“I can’t help my bad jokes. Now, I know it seems we’re finished. But I had something else- or rather _someone else_ I wanted to talk to you about…Marigold!” Isabella said brightly.

Almost immediately, her monkey stood up to attention and chittered, jumping into her arms.

Isabella smiled and scratched her- Marigold behind the ears.

Miguel blinked, finally realising something.

“Frida Kahlo!” He blurted out.

Both Isabella and Imelda stared at him.

“Frida Kahlo?” Isabella asked curiously.

“She has an Alebrije just like yours. A monkey.” He said.

“Ah. That’s interesting. I’ve never met her, but it would be nice to meet her someday. I do admire her art a lot.” Isabella said and smiled. “Going back to Marigold, I want you to take her with you. So, she can keep an eye on you for me.”

“Why?” Imelda asked, getting annoyed again.

“Marigold knows the city as well as I do, and she carries messages for me. Most of my troops know her by sight. If anything goes wrong, she can signal to them. That, and she is a sheer delight to be around. Oh, yes you are.” Isabella played with her Alebrije.

“Why Marigold?” Miguel piped up before he could help himself.

“Huh?” Isabella intoned.

“Why name your Alebrije Marigold?” he repeated.

“I named her after the Marigold bridge. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And it was the first thing I saw in the Land of the Dead. That, and she’s my personal Marigold. I can’t cross the bridge because my photo isn’t on any offrendas.” Isabella revealed.

Miguel paled. Imelda looked at him worriedly.

“You can’t visit your loved ones?” He blurted out.

Thankfully, Isabella didn’t seem upset by his rash words.

“Nope. And I don’t feel bad about it. There are some living people who still remember me, however faintly. It’ll be a few good decades before they forget, so I’m not gonna fade away any time soon. I have my gang and my work to keep me busy.” She said easily.

Miguel furrowed his brow in deep thought. She had reminded him about Papa Héctor. Did they really only have a few days to rescue him? Hopefully, they had longer. If Coco wasn’t dead yet…

Imelda noticed his worried expression and quickly asked Isabella another question in an effort to distract him.

“About that…what does your work entail? I know that we should probably get going, but I’m curious about what you do.” She said.

“Oh, right. I should’ve explained that. It was part of the plan…I run intel and such and control different groups in different parts of the city. Oh, and beyond of course” Isabella boasted.

Miguel startled, feeling his heart- his imaginary heart, briefly seize up.

“There are other areas- places beyond the city?” He said.

“Uh, yeah? Don’t get me wrong, this city is freaking huge. And I mean _huge-_ we’re just in the central part. You know about the suburbs already because you live there. But there’s also the docks, the outskirts, the business district, the old town…etcetera. The Land of the Dead is much bigger than just this one city.” She outlined, her smirk evening out into a grin.

Even Imelda seemed surprised.

“I thought…that it was big enough- “She started.

“To hold all of the dead? No way- even if some people are forgotten, there are still billions left. Interestingly enough, everyone around here seems to come from Mexico or other south American countries. The world beyond is much bigger. “Isabella observed.

_Huh?_ Miguel thought listlessly.

“There are _places_ beyond this city. Towns and farms and such- a real countryside that goes on and on and on. Trust me. Even my operatives haven’t covered all of it yet. So, there’s probably other countries and such further out. Let’s leave it at that.” She said quickly.

“Is there anything else?” Imelda said, sounding tired.

Miguel shared her sentiments.

“Well, I just need to tell you about our message system. Then you can set off. Sorry for taking so long- I rarely get carried away. You were just so entertaining.” Isabella conceded. “Right. We use pigeons- oh sh- damn.” She swore.

“Wha-” Imelda mumbled, only to pause when Isabella leapt up and hurried to the pigeon coop.

“The birds! The pigeons! I forgot to release them! Everyone must be worried sick!” Isabella called out as she wrestled the coop open. Marigold shrieked and leapt up to her shoulders.

She finally yanked it open and shooed the birds out. They scattered in all directions. They had little messages tied to their claws.

Dante, who’d been quiet up until then, started barking his head off. He even jumped up and tried to grab a few of them.

“Dante! Stop!” Miguel shouted. But it was to no avail, Dante ignored him and kept on barking.

He only stopped when Margiold leapt on top of him and gently twisted his ears, making him yelp and cower.

She murmured an apology and quickly returned to her owner.

Isabella sat back down. She was breathing deeply.

“Right. My apologies-but I had to do that. We use pigeons as messengers and couriers. They’re relaying the message that I’ve met with you, and to look out for you in the city.” She said.

Miguel huffed. He’d had an enough of Isabella. Even if she had helped them, he just wanted to leave and spend time with Imelda.

Isabella studied him carefully and then smiled.

“Let’s end this meeting, before things get anymore awkward. I think we’ve discussed everything.” She said.

“Yes. I agree. Thank you for everything. Miguel can always talk to you later. I think…it’s good for him to have someone around his age to talk to. And someone who can relate to his issues.” Imelda admitted carefully.

Isabella’s smile grew and she nodded.

“Thank _you_ \- both of you. And Miguel…if you ever want to know how we train birds to deliver messages. I can always show you the next time you visit. Just get Imelda’s Alerbrije to bring you…if she doesn’t mind.” She said.

Miguel smiled. It was as if she’d read his mind. He’d been wondering about how she trained the pigeons.

“I’ll think about your offer of support.” He said quickly, getting up with Mama Imelda.

Isabella nodded and picked up the final cookie. Looking at Dante, she smirked and then threw it at him.

Dante leapt for it. However, before it reached his mouth, a golden blur moved through the air and deftly caught it.

It was of course, Marigold. She landed on the edge of the roof and gave Dante a taunting smile.

He glared angrily at her, but backed down when she snapped it in half and threw one piece at him.

“Is he allowed to eat it?” Imelda asked.

“Yes, he is.” Miguel said. He grinned and shared an approving look with Isabella.

Imelda sighed as they giggled over their Alebrijes, tapping her foot on the floor impatiently.

Marigold finished eating first. She then leapt onto Dante’s back as he ate, calming him down with a few gentle pats when he started growling at her.

“Let’s get going Miguel.” Isabella said.

“Right.” Miguel said.

He waved goodbye to Isabella, who waved back.

“See you soon!” She yelled as they left the roof.

Marigold rode Dante down the stairs, keeping him pacified with more pats.

Miguel watched her curiously. It was quite an amazing sight; a monkey riding a dog.

At the bottom, Marigold dismounted from Dante and climbed onto Miguel’s right shoulder. She curled up and shut her eyes.

Miguel stared nervously at her. He didn’t know what to make of her yet.

Sister Sofia greeted them with a smile when they entered the main hall.

“I hope that Isabella didn’t wear you down too much. She can be quite a handful.” She said genially.

“Yeah…I don’t know what to think of her.” Miguel admitted.

He was telling the truth.

On one hand, Isabella had helped them, and he appreciated her support, but on the other hand, her snarky attitude and shifting sense of humour was difficult to put up with.

Sofia laughed deeply.

“I understand you perfectly. It took me a long time to accept her and then offer her a permanent place to live. Beforehand, she’d often take advantage of sanctuary rights and just sleep in the pews- I’d get so annoyed at her, but after thinking about it, I realised that she was just a child and needed my help. Even in death, I still strive to do right by God and help my fellow-man.” She said wistfully.

“Really? That sounds like it took a long time.” Miguel said.

Sofia chuckled.

Imelda kept quiet. She was eager to leave, but was letting them finish.

“It did. It took several years. I mean- I help run the neighbouring orphanage. I met Isabella there. When I first offered her a place to live- a store-room, she turned me down. She only accepted after I offered her the open roof instead.” She said, suddenly sombre.

“She’s been living here for three years, and I’ve known her for a decade…even so, she’s just so guarded. I don’t know anything about her past. Only that she was a street child. But she tells _everybody_ that. Quite proudly.” She added, then smiled apologetically at Imelda. “I can see that your guardian wants to leave. Sorry for droning on.”

“No need to apologise. But we have things to do and places to see. Isabella has given us the all clear. We’re going to visit the Shantytown. Miguel wants to find Héctor’s house and collect some of his things.” Imelda said.

“A wise move. Hopefully, his possessions will help him. Now, I just checked outside and it was deserted. So, I suggest you get going while it’s still quiet. I take it you have an Alebrije for transport?” Sofia asked.

Imelda nodded quickly.

“Good. I’ll see you around.” Sofia said sagely and escorted them out.

Out in the street, Imelda whistled for Pepita.

“You okay Miguel?” She asked.

“I’m fine.” Miguel replied with a smile.

Imelda smiled back.

Pepita landed with a roar and gave both of them a worried look.

“We’re fine Pepita. Please take us to the Shantytown.” Imelda said.

Pepita growled lightly.

Together, they mounted her and set off.

Dante hurried after them.

On Miguel’s shoulder, Margiold sighed and curled around him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?
> 
> Also pleeasseeeee leave a comment!! Comments help me write faster!


	12. The Shantytown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ungghhh!! I'm soooooo excited to be sharing this chapter with you all! FINALLY!!
> 
> I'll be updating my other Coco fic in a day or two!

Miguel froze in fear. They were flying by _it._

The house of Ernesto De la Cruz.

Far below them, some of Ernesto’s guards were keeping back a crowd of reporters and onlookers who were swarming the front of his estate.

Miguel swallowed and shut his eyes, burrowing his face in Imelda’s back. It reminded him of how he had abandoned his family.

Thankfully, they quickly flew on.

Eventually, he raised his head and looked forward.

He gasped.

He saw swampland. It went on and on, right into the far distant horizon.

Looking below, he saw the Shantytown, and gasped again.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but the town was surrounded by ancient ruins. 

Stone aqueducts and buildings overshadowed the rickety settlement, and numerous columns and broken statues reared out of the water.

Seeing them gave him a funny feeling…

He yelped when Pepita suddenly swerved downwards. Behind them, Dante followed with a raspy bark.

Marigold tucked her tail around his neck and _squeezed_ tight.

Miguel gasped for breath, thinking that he was being strangled. Then he blinked. He didn’t need to breath, so why was he panicking?

 _It must be reactionary._ He thought.

He was still relieved when Marigold loosened her tail once they had reached the ground.

“Right. In and out. We ask someone where Héctor’s house is, collect his stuff, and leave.” Imelda said quickly, dismounting from Pepita and offering him a hand. “Do you know anyone we can ask?”

Miguel nodded and took it. She helped him down.

“Yeah. Tia…Chelo? She’s one of Héctor's friends. If we can’t find her, then we’ll have to ask around.” He said cautiously, releasing her hand.

Imelda smiled weakly at him.

They entered the Shantytown together, carefully moving across the old creaking wooden platforms.

The denizens of the town quickly noticed them, and started gossiping amongst themselves.

Thankfully, a somewhat familiar old women with coarse white hair, wearing a white dress with a dirty apron, got up from a rickety chair outside of a small house and hurried towards them.

“You must be Imelda.” She said quietly.

“Yes.” Imelda replied slowly, looking at the woman uncertainly.

The woman sighed, then spotted Miguel and frowned.

“You- you’re that kid that came with Héctor on Dios los Muertos. You look- you have to be Miguel. We all know the news…is Héctor- is he okay? He hasn’t faded away yet?” She enquired urgently, her eyes shining with worry.

“He’s fine. He’s still with us.” Imelda said, finally relaxing.

The woman took a shaky breath.

“Thank god.” She mumbled, then she looked up and smiled warmly at her neighbours.

“He’s okay everyone! But keep it quiet! Don’t tell anyone!” She called out.

There was a number of muted cheers, but nothing more.

To Miguel’s relief, the town became much quieter after her announcement.

“Oh, where are my manners. I’m Chelo. I was so worried about Héctor. It’s so good to know that he’s all right. And Miguel…I’m so sorry.” She- Chelo said sadly.

Miguel smiled. He was so glad that they had found her!

“There’s no need to apologise. We’re just here to look at Héctor’s house and collect some of his things.” Imelda said gently, managing a small smile.

“Of course. Follow me. Héctor doesn’t like heights. So, he has a house right by edge of the bog.” Chelo said, waving at them.

She led them through the town, until they reached a big, stinky, lake.

Héctor’s house was a ramshackle hut up a short flight of steps. As Chelo said, it was right next to the water. Miguel realised that it wasn’t too far from Chicharron’s house.

The door creaked ominously as Chelo forced it open.

She reached in and fiddled with something, briefly cursing before finally sighing with relief when the room suddenly lit up.

She stood back, revealing that she’d been messing around with a small lamp.

“Right. There you go. I’m here if you need anything. I’ll stay outside and make sure you aren’t disturbed.” She said kindly.

“Thank you very much.” Imelda stated politely. “We shouldn’t be too long.”

“Mama Imelda…shouldn’t we tell her…” Miguel mumbled.

They hadn’t told Chelo about Héctor’s true condition.

She was his friend. She deserved to know.

Chelo widened her eyes in alarm, making Imelda sigh.

“Miguel, I don’t want to tell just anyone…but, I suppose we can trust Chelo.” Imelda said slowly.

She whispered something to Chelo, who instantly paled.

“That’s so…I won’t breath a word of this to anyone. Thank you for trusting me. Now, you’d better collect Héctor’s things and move on. Reporters haven’t bothered us yet, but you never know.” She said quickly and ushered them into Héctor’s ramshackle house.

Imelda nodded and led him in, gently shutting the door behind them after Dante had snuck in.

Marigold curled up on his shoulder and shut her eyes, doing her best to appear nonchalant.

“Right Miguel, let’s get Héctor’s things and then leave. Being here….it upsets me.” Imelda muttered. She was shaking profusely.

He smiled at her warmly. She smiled back, accepting his comfort.

They started searching the dimly lit shack.

Dante promptly buried his face in a corner, sniffing at something invisible, and ended up sneezing about five times in a row. Miguel giggled, but shook his head and quickly moved on. He didn’t have time to waste on appreciating his Alebrije’s antics.

He made a quick inventory of the room; there was a tiny bed, a small table, two chairs, a few shelves full of what Abuelita Elena would’ve dubbed “crap and random junk”, and lastly, piles upon piles of boxes that took up any free space.

He started looking through the boxes and blinked wildly when he found an assortment of ragtag outfits, wigs, and other accessories.

He swallowed nervously. He knew what they were.

The remains of Héctor’s efforts to get across the Marigold bridge and reunite with Coco.

He quickly moved on

Noticing a small shelf by the bed, he hurried towards it and started searching it.

It was full of faded books. Mainly novels. Old classics.

He then found a large pile of notebooks hidden behind two big volumes.

Opening one, he blinked in surprise.

It was full of a rough scrawl that could only be Héctor’s writing. Some pages also had rough drawings of various costumes and a little girl.

He realised with a jolt who the little girl was; his Mama Coco!

He tried to read Héctor’s writing, but after a few moments, his eyes started to hurt and he groaned. Héctor’s penmanship was so bad that even he couldn’t decipher it.

 _Maybe Imelda can._ He thought.

“Mama Imelda!” He called out.

“What?” She whispered, creeping over to him from the other side of the room.

“These are Héctor’s journals.” He revealed lowly, indicating the pile of notebooks.

“W-what!?” She repeated, clamping a hand over her mouth when she realised that she had raised her voice.

“Look. There’s a whole pile of them. Can you read them?” He asked.

“I-I probably can. But I don’t think that we should read them. However, we can bring them to Héctor. Let me sort them out. Just be aware Mijo, looking through Héctor’s house is one thing, but we shouldn’t invade his privacy.” She said carefully.

He nodded respectfully and passed all the journals to her.

Imelda thanked him and laid them out on the table.

She started sorting through them, taking care to not read the entries.

Miguel left her and resumed his search.

A particularly large box caught his eye and he opened it, only to frown when he saw what was inside.

 _Hats._ Of all shapes and sizes.

They were all ripped up.

 _Why does Papa Héctor have these?_ He thought, cocking his head, then sighed and put them away.

He went back to the shelves.

He only found one interesting item; a small picture of Héctor posing with a few of his neighbours. He could recognise Chelo…and Chicharron??

Everyone was grinning, even Héctor.

He looked so happy.

Miguel put it back and averted his eyes. It filled him with despair.

He took a deep breath, vowing to make Héctor better and make him smile again.

He should return to Imelda. The journals were the only thing that could help them.

If he showed her the photograph, it would just upset her.

Turning around, he blinked when he noticed something peeking out from underneath Héctor’s bed.

Getting down on his hands and knees, he peered closely at it.

It was a briefcase. A seriously _large_ briefcase. It seemed stuck in place.

Fumbling with the handle, he tried to pull it out, but failed. It was really stuck tight.

Bracing himself, he pulled on it again, yanking it back and forth.

After a few minutes, he succeeded and managed to pry it lose.

Unfortunately, this created a thick cloud of dust and he coughed harshly.

Waving it away, he studied the suitcase.

It was locked with ancient numerical padlock.

He fumbled with it. He bet, that if he tried hard enough, he could pry it loose…

He paused.

 _What am I doing? Mama Imelda just told me not to invade Héctor’s privacy. This suitcase was hidden under his bed. It must be very valuable to him. I should leave it alone._ He thought.

That didn’t mean that they had to leave it behind. Maybe showing the suitcase to Héctor would make him open it, and then whatever was inside would jog his memory.

Standing up, he took a deep breath and picked up the suitcase before turning to Imelda, fully ready to leave.

Most of Héctor’s stuff was either too old or decrepit to be of much use.

Like his collection of hats…

It was best to let Chelo keep his house in order.

As he finally looked at Imelda, his heart seized up.

She was frozen still with a blank look on her face, but tears were falling from her eyes. She was grasping one of Héctor’s notebooks in her right hand, so tightly that her bones were trembling. Her left hand was clenched into a rigid fist on the tabletop.

“Mama Imelda?” He said quietly.

Imelda choked and shook her head.

“He never blamed me. Never.” She muttered.

“What?” He whispered.

“I accidentally read one of the entries. I know his writing so well, and I couldn’t stop myself…he always loved me and he never gave up on me- on us. As a couple.” She revealed, crying harder. “I’m so pathetic…I couldn’t respect his privacy and then I have the audacity to cry over what he thought of me. His blind optimism…” She finished with a sob.

Miguel swallowed. He didn’t know what to do.

Imelda’s emotional wounds were so different from his own…but he knew Héctor, and Imelda, and how much they’d always loved one another. Just like his parents, grandparents and great grandparents.

“D-don’t be sad. You couldn’t help yourself …you didn’t mean to look. We’re all sad and we all miss Héctor.” He said shakily, putting down the suitcase and sitting next to her.

He reached out and gently undid her left hand, before taking it in his own and squeezing it tightly.

Imelda didn’t reciprocate. She just stared ahead with teary eyes, as if she was oblivious to his presence.

“Mama Imelda?” He beckoned.

She sighed wearily.

“None of you can relate to me. To my mistakes- to what _I_ did to Héctor. It’s all my fault…I blamed him for everything… for so many sins that he didn’t commit.” She said suddenly.

“Huh?” Miguel said desperately.

“I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve him at all. He stayed true…and I didn’t. I tried moving on. When Coco was old enough…eighteen years old, and my business was secure, I dated a few men…. I told them that Héctor was dead. It never got serious, but I didn’t stay true to him…” She confessed, starting to cry harder.

Miguel bit his lip. He _really_ didn’t know what to do.

So, he shut his eyes and _thought_ , reflecting on his great-great grandparents and what they meant to him. They had helped him so much and he loved them so dearly.

He opened his eyes and nodded. Things were clearer.

Imelda was lying to herself. She and Héctor…they belonged together. And she had never abandoned him.

She may have tried, but in the end, she couldn’t.

“Imelda…I don’t- you never abandoned Héctor. Because you never _knew…_ about what had really happened to him, about what Ernesto had done to him. You…you were never able to move on, because you always loved him. You never stopped loving him- and he’s here now. Remember our vow to help him. Don’t give up. We’re gonna do it. We’re gonna wake him up and be a familia.” He comforted her, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

He squeezed her hand again, mustering as much force as he could.

Imelda blinked several times and then stared at him with tired eyes, seemingly coming back to reality.

“Y-yes, yes. You’re right. But I-I feel so…” She trailed off with a sigh. “Thank you, Miguel. I just need time to process everything, and accept what you said- that it wasn’t my fault.”

“Come on. We’re done here. After he’s awake, Héctor can come back here with us and retrieve the rest of his things. I think we’ve found everything we need.” He said, taking the initiative.

“Are you sure?” Imelda asked uncertainly.

“Well, unless you want to take Héctor’s collection of hats with us…” He said innocently.

Imelda chuckled lightly.

“When we were together, he loved wearing different hats. I always teased him about it. I swear… I stopped him from hoarding them. He wanted to keep them all, even the old ones. No wonder he became a hoarding menace without me around.” She joked weakly.

Miguel smiled at her.

“We just need to ask Chelo for a bag or something. There’s too much for us to carry on our own.” He said, getting up slowly.

“What about that?” She said, pointing at the suitcase.

“I found it under the bed. I don’t feel comfortable with opening it…I have a feeling there’s something important in it. But it’s something that Héctor should share with us himself.” He said, taking a deep breath and picking it up.

“Ah. Good boy. Do you want me to carry it?” Imelda offered.

He shook his head.

“All right. I’ll take the notebooks. Let’s go talk to Chelo.” She said.

Without anything else to do, they left the hut. Marigold perked up when they went outside and stood up on his shoulder, sniffing the air.

Chelo was waiting for them.

“Did you find everything you needed?” She said gently, giving them a warm smile.

“Yes.” Miguel said genially, returning her smile. Imelda smiled at her as well and nodded.

“Good. Give Héctor my best. If you need anything, we’re here.” Chelo offered diligently.

Miguel blinked. These people were dying, and had next to nothing, yet they were being so generous and kind.

“Thank you. I think that we’d better get going. It’s coming up to midday and I need to find a quiet place to get Miguel some lunch. We have an entire afternoon to waste away.” Imelda said.

“Well, why don’t you show him the View?” Chelo said helpfully.

“The view?” Imelda asked.

“Well, you have a flying Alebrije- something very few people have, so you can easily travel to the hills. From there, you can see the whole city. I hear it’s quite beautiful. It’s called the “View”.” Chelo said sincerely.

Miguel paused and frowned.

 _The hills…?_ He thought, feeling confused.

“We’ll think about it. But for now, I think Miguel is really hungry.” Imelda teased him.

He glared lightly at her.

“Well, you’d better take me somewhere good. I am _realllly_ hungry.” He complained jovially.

Chelo laughed at them.

“C’mon I’ll lead you out.” She said helpfully.

They returned to the main area.

Miguel’s stomach did a flip when he saw Pepita.

A large number of children were clamouring around her. Although she was ignoring them, they were still patting her.

It made him recall the children at the park and how they had clustered around him.

Imelda saw his reaction and frowned stormily.

She whispered something to Chelo, who bustled ahead and began quietly ushering the children away.

The children bickered with her, but left after she raised her voice.

Miguel and Imelda both sighed in relief and joined her.

“Thank you Chelo.” Imelda said.

“No problem. I hope you have a nice day and that everything goes well. Come back if you need anything.” Chelo repeated.

“Oh wait! I almost forgot. Do you have a bag we can borrow? For Héctor’s stuff?” Miguel asked quickly.

“Of course. Wait a minute.” Chelo said.

She went into her house and came back a minute later, carrying a large canvas bag.

They thanked her again and then hurriedly mounted Pepita.

Imelda filled the bag with Héctor’s notebooks and put in front of her. Miguel put Héctor’s suitcase behind him and kept a tight grip on it.

Waving Chelo goodbye, they rose into the air and flew away to greener pastures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howzat?

**Author's Note:**

> Howzat?
> 
> Please leave a kudos/comment.


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